december 31, 2001

fotografias

here are some snapshots, photochopped y otherwise.

nikoel, sprocket, & me apin' kali at b's going away party

snapshot of half of the montage i made for nikoel for xmas -- treated to a little photochopping.

snapshot of a red pepper i found abandoned in the middle of the street. i pitied it.

c'mon -- feel the love of miss lu.

blurry record of the windows on my wall.

now that i've treated you to some bits of mi vida, i am off to gussy my fine self up in order to ring in 2002 with some style. it's going to be a wonderful new year, i can feel it.

this last week = loveliness sinking.

on the 22nd i celebrated xmas with mi familia up north. sean bought me a new journal in which he wrote a poem for me - i read it when i got home & i cried. it was so sweet. had bits of us in it and reminded me how, even though we haven't been around each other very much for the last few years, we are so similar and we share complicity provided by childhood. also experienced the obligatory cooing over the nephew when he says "i wish i had to ride a boat at the fair again" in response to a photo of him attempting to climb out of a yellow plastic canoe and jump onto the top of a faux-stone tunnel.

later in the evening was b's first going away party. it was mellow and i boogied about a bit. drank mezcal and just watched all the lovely people i know celebrate whatever they need to in every possible way. it was a lovely shindig, but nothing compared to the bender we took upon ourselves on this last thursday night, the evening before b was leaving us for good.

christmas eve day found me eating breakfast with the lovely joem, ever sweet, of course. we have been attempting to see 'waking life' for a couple of weeks now, but for some strange reason we keep hitting obstacles. it will be seen, however. the evening brought myself, m&a, nikoel, and b to a hotel bar....knocked back cocktails and yummy vittles, then headed up to tawney's for a look-see at the party. last year it was so warm and fuzzy and totally changed my perspective, but after this last scorpio party, at which i ingested a number of alterations, i have had no interest in anything foggy/gooey/bendy.

this past year has seen my most varied experimentation with a variety of illegalities. i am not a particularly drug-oriented lass, and only since lighting up for the first time with the tico rastafarians have i even endeavored to take part in anything other than fermentation-based-rowdy. my 25th birthday kicked off an annum of trekking through opiate, stimulant, and psychedelic, much more thorough than i'd ever thought i'd explore, and happily expanding. bits of experience that stain my passport with shroom-enhanced giggles and mdma-blissed melding con musica.

christmas day was spent walking around deserted neighborhoods and attempting, for the third unsuccessful time, to see 'waking life' with joem. drinks came on afterward and then i headed home, only to come down with a sore throat and, eventually, flu that depleted my health and my general outlook on life.

shit, i've been so strangely sad lately. it's like all of this wonderful, engrossing, necessary shit is happening and i'm taking it all in....feeling it....wearing it only marginally well....but there is this consistent underlying sadness to it all. to everything.

the terror that i am so out of touch with reality. that all of us are. stuck ...

in this post-dramatic timezone
you don't answer the phone
always hearing la salsa brava on the other end

or

humanity be frontin reality like
a chiapetrosegardenbush
plastic stemming from nothing natural
so i stay home a lot

i've been reminiscing the jungle, that complicated survival based in simple. this box i am in, this tiny space, so divorced from the core of what it is to be alive, invisible bars and borders without name, countries that exist only in competition and trade.

fucking what? so difficult for me to get myself out of bed when i look around and see the confines of this particular torture are in fact defined by consumption.

must.....have.....more.....

meaning proffered up only when it's commercially viable, sell everything on the side of the road to nowhere - "it's the journey, not the destination - wanna buy a souvenir?" when traipsing outside of this country, i run into those that see dollar signs where my smile is and are frustrated by my lack of purchase. no one can blame them, however, one glance at our television propaganda and it is well known that we know no higher deity than the greenback. no new ideas, i'm aware, just synching myself up with the disillusionment.

ahora, sun is burning it up out in the sky, no clouds to speak of, just brittle breezes and crows screams.

thursday night, the last evening of b in seattle, i was getting over it by falling under it, and i actually did let my seams split open. too much vodka had me weeping and emptying out the weight on my heart, i just generally feel so lost. with no roots and no categorized meaning and my soul just barely making it out of apathy on a daily basis - i can't blame the rain when i keep the shutters closed and refuse to acknowledge the sidewalk.

joem said, "you just collect all these little moments, don't you?" perhaps that's what i'm best at - never truly present, always watching from above, recording for posterity - exactly whose i'm not terribly certain.

it all feels too too. lends me to disengage.

december 19, 2001

notion : pleasant

footprints @ the scene

trainwreck, nice to meet ya. mismatched consonants framed by peeling wallpaper. what do i need? someone/thing to hold onto, please?

it's raining. blah.

i had to move all the sound equipment from the space we used for the party and i ran into this guy -- damn! was he sexy. i was piqued by him and i wanted to somehow say something so there would be a casual reason for me to run into him again soon but how do you transmit "i'd really like to chat you up but have you think its a nonchalant cool thang when really i want to fuck you based on sight alone" without seeming like a freak?

dunno if it's possible. i'll just let it roll like we do.

speaking of rolling, i got the big trip in the mindset. saw these pictures today and it got me revved. i'm trying to hook myself up with some language ability so that i can get more out of the experience. for example, i realized that the only way i can truly enjoy japan is if i master the delicate language used by japanese gay men.

i think there is an adage somewhere mentioning how incredibly important it is that one knows how to say "i wanna fist you" before stepping foot in a foreign country.

i'm pondering voice/singing lessons. biggest motivation is the fact that i need to develop my world outside of the 9-5 because that shit is becoming rubber cement in my art-eries. i don't like feeling sedentary, and i hate feeling unchallenged. need to open my eyes again and make an effort to forget about "stress".

on the time travel tip, i received an email from a ghost of sweet-nothing-past. you may remember me prostrating myself for her lovely whims, and i finally got over it all when she writes to me again. fuck this "you're the most amazing person i've ever met" bullshit when the purveyor is a known pathological liar. all the proclamations hit the pavement, crumpled kat flung from thirty flights up, i can only give so much and then there is nothing.

honestly, i was so angry. i felt used. i let it happen and i blame no one but myself because why bother pushing blame onto someone who inhabits an ether best described during temper tantrums? what i hate the most about it all is how watered-down and fucked up it left me and here i am with more additional baggage - i refuse to check! i will have to do something drastic if my load expands beyond carry-on.

but now it seems like another me went through those hi-jinx and prayed so hard for that dream come true. i remember being so incredibly surprised by it all, i never want to lose that feeling. ever.

"all of this then back again, another girl, another name"

so then i have the current sweet nothings, with whom i tread increasingly thinner ice. something will break, i know -- it always does with emotional jigsaws, gotta work out the bits that don't match up and eventually change the idea of what image was meant to be formed by the scattered pieces on the living room rug.

i have been listening to too much bjork lately. parts of my body can't get enough. it is taking me into glorified melancholy but frames inspiration like a chainsaw: jagged soulwrenching prettified paste.

sticking it together, making me feel sexxxy.

december 17, 2001

"filthy tart your dress is filthy"

good evening.

it is a monday.

my libido is a little bit out of control. thank god for....oh, so many things, actually.

on to business: i may have been irritatingly negligent, but i return bearing gifts. they represent only a small part of what i have been spending my time on since last we spoke.

1) played games
2) listened to noize
3) developed envy
4) hung out with mookie
5) looted still life (with santa)
6)

life is pretty okay and maybe even a little bit alright. work has been a tad scintillating and i just pulled off a pretty fucking awesome year-end bonanza. i love dancing, i think i've mentioned this before.

a friend is taking a bit of his own sweet time to mildly verse me in this - and i must admit, it is intriguing. a huge part of me is thinking, "i'd like to try this out." the idea is pretty hot, and i've pondered it before. i'm definitely open to the experience so perhaps it will happen.

i've been thinking a lot lately about time travel. reverse direction, just so i could figure a few things out. so much of my knowledge has come from actual experience and so i'm supposing that jumping backwards could provide explanation to previously unclear or misunderstood facts, events, ideas - that which is difficult for me to grasp.

but how to build a time machine? i certainly don't have the scientific background, and there's no way i can just cook one up in the backyard, homegrown jalopy pasted together with old lawnmower parts and a healthy dose of chili sauce. one, i'm presuming, must take care when delving into molecular de/reconstruction, especially when the molecules involved currently form the shape of one's body.

i wonder if anyone is even getting close to time warp. i've certainly attained it in pill form, but i'd like to see some gear out on the market within the next few years. funny thing about war and recession is that everyone is always so focused on the creation of destruction and just trying to get some more food into their mouths that they forget about the forging ahead necessary for evolution.

fucking missile shields. please. a plan most certainly born from the paranoia only a healthy relationship with cocaine can induce.

so what now? i'm getting antsy. just dabbling away, playing around with the emotionally unavailable because i have no real concept of what the fuck i should be doing, and i'm certainly wondering when i will hit the detour.

funny thing about leveling expectations is that when the sweetness comes, it's so incredibly tasty that my teeth ache and goose bumps cover my in/outsides. it's the sour times when i remember that i thought i deserved more once, a long long time ago, way before anyone twisted my emotions.....it's those moments that crash harder, flame faster, spin my skull into surreal lightheaded silent tantrum.

often in my life, i haven't been the proverbial "enough" for many people, never worth the investment. the negligible body lying next to them in the bed. but it's my own fucking fault, truly: i'm the shivering child hiding behind the pantry door, nibbling a cracker and listening to the "adult" conversations taking place on the other side. desperate to gauge every syllable if only to wear it in farce the following night.

trust. oh, hello again, i must have left you outside. that's the aspect of bondage that intrigues me the most: trust is my worst skill, i can't seem to get it right. i never trust the good ones and always trust the bad ones and i keep thinking that i'm such a fucking wonderful judge of character.

i feel like stealing away, jungle. forget about these emotional alarm clocks and invisible field goals. certainly i'm spinning, a cracked, sarcastic top.

but i cannot lie -- i feel damn good, baby. brain as sea-sponge, i'm soaking in the fuselage.

and you?