i swear i just heard gun shots- and now i'm aware of all the different sorts of noises right outside my window, like june bugs hitting against the glass and rain drops falling through the chilly winter air tap dancing on the autumn leaves below; everything, collectively, faint and eerie. i'm reaching for yo la tengo. something familiar, for warmth and melancholy. a cup of hot cocoa sounds nice, too.

head on revised

with coffee and a cranberry orange muffin in hand, i arrived early saturday morning at the restaurant ready to start pulling out the white fairy lights and fluffing reaf after reaf. i may not be the biggest fan of christmas, but i'm definately a, decorating for any occasion, guru. a few years ago i was hired to do some freelance decorating work at the anatole hotel for the infamous crystal ball. we spent three non-stop days transformimg a conference room into a winter wonderland. i was industrious and energetic throughout the entire process- and by the end of that third day, a christamas decorating professional.

this time around however i was sluggish and worse than that: i was the furthest thing away from being creative. my mind was somewhere else and my stomach was twisted up in knots. i had come head on with the realization that i had been a complete ass wipe to someone dear to me. the flood gates had been opened; the revelation of my recent behavior in light of said dear one's recent behavior was hitting me in tidal waves, one right after another and i was mortified by it.

after what little decorating i had accomplished, i raced home, and not wanting to be a pain in the ass by bothering dear ones movie day, i typed away painfully and sincerely into an email.

the past few days i've been realizing alot about myself-and none of it is good. for example: i make up reasons for, not only my intentions, but the causes as well. instead of being honest about what my intentions and the causes truely are. not because i want to be deceptive or anything like that, but because, i'm deathly afraid of the vulnerability that is found in admitting and stating the truth, so much that half the time i don't even realize i'm doing it until i'm basking in the aftermath from it. it's true: i'm a decoy addict.

first time for, almost, everything

traveling abroad does more than broaden your world view and outlook on life: it forces you to eat things that, typically, you would never fathom as enjoyable let alone edible. or at least, for me. since my adventures across the big blue sea and border patrol, i've cultivated the "don't knock it till you try it" mentality when it comes to not only food but also to music and film and art and hypothetical musings. so many likes and interests have come from this cliche that when something new blows my way, unless it's hard core narcotics, sexual perversion, or just plain ol' absurdity, i'm typically the first one eager and willing to sink my teeth into it. but tonight at work as the hot asian chic gravitated towards me with her lips nearly brushing mine, i had no desire to taste and see what kissing another girl might be like. and it was the perfect scenario too...of course, had i decided to try it before i knocked it. she was indeed very beautiful, a complete stranger who had given me a drag of her clove cigarette back at the table; but now we were in the bathroom, alone. i was pulling my curls back into a pin. she, i assumed, was waiting to wash her hands but after she pulled in the first time, i then re-assumed, she was wanting to smell my aveda scented hair. the second time however she asked. and after the third time she finally gave up. it was the kind of moment that secrets are suppose to be made of, if only you have the desire to make such a secret. i, on the other hand, did not. as she turned to walk away, she told me "too bad". i hate to admit it but, i don't agree.

her face was suprisngly warm with kindness. my arm reached out to hand her the owed five dollars and fourty cents, it was thanksgiving day. a day most people spend with their families; with their loved ones, basting a turkey, eating handfuls of olives while sitting togather in the living room watching football. this year however, i was sitting in my car at a jack n' the box drive through window listening to the oldies; feeling lonely, missing my family and our traditions; wishing for something so far out of my grasp. i was wanting to apologize. i was wanting to explain myself to her: on why people like me were having to make her work on such a holiday but she didn't seem to mind in the least, and so i smiled with tears in my eyes, and with my other hand, grabbed the paper bag. no exchanging of holiday cheer just business as usual.

my cheating heart

we met on a bright and sunny summer afternoon. i didn't know what to expect; i had heard so many wonderful things about him that i was both nervous and excited in the same breath. see, the one before him was always late for our appointments and when we did meet i don't think we understood eachother at all. but with alex, it was different. it was magic. he knew what i wanted but moreso, what i needed: warm blonde highlites with a chocolate color underneath and a claire danes-esque hair cut.

after our very first time together i knew i had found what i had been looking for in all those other salons with all those other hair dressers and that was someone who knew what in the fcck they were doing not trying to do. instead of emulating his style or trying to give me a cut and color that is percieved to be hip, alex had given me a do based on understanding that i liked things to be kept simple, practical, while still being unique and cute.

the only, and i mean only, bad thing about alex are his prices. don't get me wrong, he's totally worth every last penny of it...that is, if you have every last penny of it....which, i don't. but even if not being able to afford alex means living with split ends for two more months, i'd happily do it. it's just the thing is-is that there's this guy i work with. he's nearly through with hair school and is dying to "do anything to that mess"....and god, it's true. tony being eccentricly homosexual and with a heart made of gold has even offered to do it for zilch.

a girls got to do what a girls got to do.

right?!?

this weekends check list

-over all, be un-impressed with modern art.
-drink a pitcher of strawberry ritas at joe t's with rachel.
-make blueberry muffins from scratch while slightly stoned.
-stand up to the prick in line at the grocery store.
-receive note and rose on windshield from total stranger.
-see the bridget jones diary sequel with two of my best friends.
-save disoriented squirrel from immanent death.

the M stands for Meek, bitch.

for years i've accounted the void of my personal success to lacking perserverance. but tonight, as i was watching the other cocktail waitress, michelle, make all my money, it hit me: i'm just not aggressive.

michelle and i have an agreement: whomever takes the lounge the first night takes the tables the next night because the tables is where the money is at and the lounge is where people who just want water while they wait for their reservation; or where people who tell you they don't want a drink then walk straight up to the bar and get four martinis which they will inevitably take back to the lounge and leave the glasses when their done, sit.

on friday night i typically take the tables because i'm the first one to get there, however, this past friday i took the lounge seeing as how i had already a few patrons in the lounge area by the time michelle got to work and keeping the tables in addition to what i already had would have resulted in michelle watching me make all the bens. it wasn't ideal for me but i did it; i did it even though i knew big fat tab mike madono was going to be sitting in the table section; i did it because michelle agreed that the tables would be mine the next night. i was cool.

then tonight, as i went to greet my first table, michelle informed that our manager wanted her to have the tables and that was i was going to be in the lounge again. nearing the end of the month when rent is due and approaching is a nye's trip to new york city, i was too finicially strapped to take it in stride; plus, my feelings were hurt. i found our manager and asked why i had been put in the lounge after i had already been there once that weekend. she was clueless as to what in hell i was talking about. it seemed to be that michelle had lied. after interogation, i found out the truth. the truth: because michelle got there first she felt justified in claiming the tables, hoping i wouldn't second guess the evenings orders. it was an aggresive move. it was a move that resulted in her making probably about $150 more than me.

opposite from the night before when i helped her out by bussing, tonight i watched leisurely and vindictively as she couldn't handle the tables and bitched and huffed like the little uptown-gold-digging -princess she is.

another manager noticing i wasn't my usual self, that my smile had been turned upside down, took me aside to find out what was up. i explained it all and he replied, as if it was normal, "that's just the type of world we live in." and to that i responded, "not in my world".

and that's the thing, i don't care enough about success or wealth or, for that matter, money in general, to abide by the "survival of the fittest" rules. our existence is so short-i don't understand these people who waste it being so concerned with materialism and status (be it finicial, intellectual, social, or spiritual.) that they fail to ever be genuinely happy and content; that they fail to live and let live; that they fail to be nice and respectful of others. often when driving in my car, gazing out at buildings or sitting in traffic, i'm reminded how small my and the rest of civilizations signifance is in the scheme of life. not of life as we imagine it-but life in it's infinite sense. it's humbling really.

there is nothing i can say that can't be said: the beatles had it right all along.

"a roll of film?!?"

i'm known to be one, from time to time, to misplace my keys, lock my keys in my car, leave my asthma inhaler at a bar, lose my drivers license, and my head. a few years ago the night before my trip to romania, i went to the cheesecake factory for an 'all american' farewell dinner and martini. the next morning as i collected the neccesary objects to go in my carry on i realized i had no idea where my passport was. paniced and growing grey hair by the second, i called everywhere i had been the day before. which meant, the day before a big trip, there were many a places to call. after numerous failed inquiries, i finally found it at the cheesecake factory, and raced as fast my little suv would go to pick it up. after that incident, i thought i would never misplace something so valueable ever ever again.

yesterday was jon's birthday. he turned 28 years old. for the past three weeks i have been tirelessly putting togather his present. a week before i knew i needed to send it for it to get there in time, i also knew, i had a few more knicks to smooth out before i could begin to complete it. what i didn't realize, was that the two weeks prior work, was lost; and this i realized today.

i've searched high and low. i've re-cleaned my spotless room in hope that, somehow in the heat of yesterdays battle, i overlooked seeing it. i've sunk to levels of unchartered dementia- visioning a legion of fleas with red bandanas around their head, triumphantly carrying it away, like the cartoon of the ants at a picnic totting a ham and cheese sandwhich on their back, but in this scenerio, the devil fleas are bringing it to a p.o.w camp and later have plans to burn it at the stake. i've driven here and i've driven there. i've dug threw the trash out in the dumpster just in case, for some god only knows reason, i accidentally threw it away. i've called every place of business i can recall being at in the last two weeks, begging them to look in their lost and found. and now, now i'm on the verge of tears. i wanted so badly to give jon the best damn birthday gift in the world; i wanted to show him just how special he is to me, how special he is to so many people. he really deserves it and i really blew it.

the battle for my sanity

last night as i laid on my bed, folding laundry, and talking to jon on the phone i felt something bite my thigh. instinctively and instantly i lifted up dress and took a swat at where the sting was coming from. after the deed was done, i lifted my hand to see exactly what had been feasting on my thigh, it was a flea and it was not dead, oh no-it jumped from my thigh and onto my bed. not wanting to tell jon that i might be sleeping with fleas, for obvious self-pride reasons, i tried to find the little bastard while still carrying on in conversation; but the little bastard wasn't alone, and, hiding my disgust could only last for so long.

as i lifted up pieces of laundry, relocated my pillows to my floor, and gazed with violation down at my covers i began to notice the little bastard wasn't living in solitude; that there was a frekkin flea fiesta in my bed; that all of his amigos and familia were hanging out right there with me. the mortification that followed was so intense that internalization and discreetness had become utterly impossible.

after a gallant attempt at alienating the enemy, i waved a white flag and jumped from my bed to my computer desk, shaking and disclothing as quickly as possible; crying out in horror and shock. jon acted as my informative, clueing me in to the 'ways of the flea'. he had seen some documentary (i love this about him-he's seen a documentary about almost everything and anything. he's like a really good looking version of ask jeeves.) about fleas and tolled me that they could live for years, going into dormancy for months at a time, fooling one that they had alleviated the pest. he also said that calling in a fumigator is seemingly pointless and so is giving patti's mangy mutes a flea dip because the fleas just aren't in the carpet or on the dogs anymore, there probably deep within furniture as well. to jon this was apparent because i have hard wood floors while the rest of the house is carpeted; plus, only once did sunshine come in my room and that was months ago when she got all freaked out because of a storm, and so for fleas to be in my bed only means the problem is just that advanced.

advanced or minute, there was no way in gods green earth that i was going to get back in my bed, let alone, sleep in it. after the conversation with jon, i gave my sister a call and set out in the middle of the night with only the clothes on my back to ross avenue.

before i got there, i decided to console myself with curly fries and the spicy chicken crispy sanwhich from jack n' the box. it indeed was comforting, so was sleeping, flea free, on belles couch. though not as comforting as declaring a full on war with the army of fleas in my bedroom would be later the next day.

i commenced the battle with stripping all bedding, including the bed skirt, and putting it in the washer. which it went through, thrice. then onto the laundry. then taking everything, and i mean everything, out of my room and sweeping the entire floor, not an inch left behind. this though meant moving my bed and that which had found residency underneath it. so of course, this lead me to finding new homes for all that shit, some of which, i found permanent accommodation for in the trash can. with the bed and furniture out of my way i decided to capitalize such an opportunity and pledge the wood paneling that goes around the bottom of the wall near the floor. this opened my eyes to the dire state of the window sills. and thus, the windows themselves. before i knew it, my room was bare. i had even pulled down my linen curtains for a ride in the washer. all said and done: i'm happy to report, i haven't seen one flea since i went ape with cleaning.

sure they might have only fled underground for a few months, but tonight, tonight i'll be sleeping with only the invited company: my sheets, my covers, my duval, my pillows, and a few erotic dreams.

i've lost that loving feeling

i could lie, i could claim that the reason behind my absence from blogging is because i've been just SO over-whelmingly busy; or, because i was having computer problems, a virus or something like that. neither are true, but i could pretend...err, i could lie-i could avoid admitting blogger burn out.

it's happened to us all, right?!? but does blogger burn out transpire with others out there as much and often as it seems to do with me? i ask knowing; i know it doesn't. it's just, i just deleted everything i just wrote after this.

awesome.

honestly

i honestly don't think i can honestly write anymore. it's all become filtered, watered down versions of the truth if not the truth being omitted altogether. perhaps that is best; this is best, keeping these things to myself, miserably watching sincerity bang itself at the four corners of release. anyways, it's so unclear, a mystery even unto me, it's creator.

i noticed the other day down at the lake this enormous pile of driftwood tittering on the cusp of the spill way. i wondered how long it would take for the conditions of the water level to push them over the edge- for them to then float down the waterfall and onto the bank below. i wondered if the driftwood would prefer the titter to possible abandonment, anyways.

oh, fffccckkk it all.

today is my mothers birthday. that is if today is still the 14th. otherwise, it's rachels. the happiest for the best i hope.

i'm listening to i am kloot. hey, it was there and i'm tired if not a tad bit drunk. my bed is covered with crap: a jacket, wrapping paper, a pen, a present, the phone, a pair of slacks, and leg warmers. i'm too tired to put any of it up and i'm too tired to take out my contacts.

this morning i went to a birthday brunch at terrillis. "h" was there. it had been so long, and so brief, since we had seen each other that he took the first ten minuets gawking over me without my glasses. sigh. i know this is the way it should be- but damn if i didn't wish we could be friends like we once were. life changes, things change, and that's cool. just sometimes, just some mornings when your enjoying that other person's company, remembering how much fun it was when the both of you would hang out together, well, it sucks and you wish with all your heart for that idealistic world that you despise other people for believing and acting in.

sheer magnificent poetry

"We pierced the side of the idol
With the sharpened neck of an electric guitar
Bottled the water from the wound
Holy relic- the essence of star
But what does she care, it's just another blank stare
To a world that loves and hates you on a dare
Where the orphans ask the widows the meaning of 'fair'
So let this be a drink to quench this uncontrollable thirst
Tie the belt a notch tighter around anxious hearts set to burst
And when this once at least gilded cage has been
Stripped bare of flesh cold and numb
What have you done, Mark David Chapman?
Let all the desperate hours of boredom
Lead you to some meaning of truth
Bumps and bruises and notebooks for heaven's jury as proof
The emotions were shrink wrapped, sold as scraps
Choose any scene from the vending machine
Somewhere lost in the night, a satellite transmitted dream
Industrial revolutions of the soul interchangeable hearts it's manufacturing
If we wear out each other it's o.k., just go buy another
So let this be a drink to calm the shaking hands that you've found
Let this be release, forever unwound."

pre-occupied with life: things are moving a little bit faster; there is much to do, and people to do them with.

i finally bought the diary of anais nin and would be lying if i said it had not casted itself in my dreams every night since i picked it up.

i've gotten half way through the movie about sylvia plath, twice.

after a lengthy "where are you at in life" discourse with my boss i've finally started to make head way on my "urban bound" project. three interviews tommorrow alone.

tuesday afternoon taylor, his new girlfriend, and i walked to the arborretum for a picnic. it was lovely. the weather was perfect. the grassy nole we sat on was soft. there was a cool breeze; there was ample conversation, laughter, and organic food.

at the last minute sj had to fly out to detroit for the rockettes, but not before an evening full of bellinis and plans to spend this nye in time square was had.

i saw the delgados play monday night at trees. the mix was horrendous but the pizza afterwards was frekkin delicous.

i just got back from grocery shopping. i bought:

blue corn chips
black bean dip
2 crispy apples
wid mushroom ravoli
olives
organic blueberry waffles
a cream cheese and raspberry danish from the pastry case
bottle of bonnie doon syrah
cup of coffee
block of pryrene cheese

i now need to mail my mum a birthday card, finish working on her and jons gift, buy rachel's birthday gift and some face wash. then this evening i have to work and afterwards i'm going to see trail of the dead at the gypsy tea room.

no time for spell check or trying to seem bright.

rated D for disturbing

"I've been, uh, I've been screwing my sister. And, uh, we've been doing this for five or six years now. And, uh, um, she wants us to live together. And I don't want to do that 'cause our mother's still alive. And I don't wanna really screw up my mother. But my sister, you know, she's really, you know...she's really neat. She's really, she's really good.... She's got...she's beautiful. And, uh, you know she's like, you know, the best fuck I've ever had. And, uh, I just...you know I...I really...you know, she's really nice. But, uh, ...She wants us to live together. And, uh, ...uh, you know, and she thinks we can slip it by our mother. But, uh, I don't know what to do about it right now. So, um, I'll call you when I find out."

it's not so much the content alone i found to be so disturbing, it was also hearing the voices: muffled, raw, nervous, outlined with relief and in the very same emoution, remorse; years of crippling shame making creaks through the dialect but not so much that they sounded estranged, or even afraid. to the contrary, for some it seemed to be only mere admittance, devoid of almost any regret.

i was on my way over to rachels when i heard this apology themed program on 'this american life' earlier in the afternoon. it caught me completely off guard. hours later i'm still not quite able to articulate my thoughts or feelings that the audio clippings left me with.

some things are better left unheard.

"editorial"

i woke up wednesday morning seized with giddy anticipation and fear. the night before i had decided to forgo the dreary task of watching the election slowly unravel for drinks and fellowship with friends instead. every so often throughout the day i would turn my radio knob over to either npr or sean hannity/rush limbaugh to kinda get a clue on the projection of which way the popular and electoral vote was going ; and every so often at ships that night, i would glance up at the muted television to read the score. but it wasn't till the next morning, sitting at my computer, that i felt comfortable being both extremely happy and relieved.

when i made the congratulation phone call rounds, one of the receivers, upon hearing my admittance of relief as well as joy, asked if i had been afraid that kerry was going to win. now, i might be in the heart of the bible belt and gw's home state, but the neighborhood i live in is a completely different political geographic; and the subculture i find myself in, very similar. so, yes, i was worried- all i saw were kerry stickers on aging volvos and his signs on the lawns throughout my neighborhood; and all i heard was anti-bush gabber from every plastic framed four eyes that came my way.

i had come to doubt america's ability to think with her head and not just with her heart, to see the bigger picture and not just what our petty understanding can wrap itself around at this moment, to come to a conclusion based on tangible facts and not spurious attacks and/or lofty idealism, to stand on the side that stands for what is right and not what we want to be right in so that we can call ourselves tolerable, accepting, and/or...progressive.

i genuinely feel sorry for my fellow citizens and friends who had such grand hopes that their candidate (who embodied their ideas and opinions) would be president; and while i don't necessarily agree with whom they so fervently desired to be president, i did find their idealism and passion to be a beautiful thing, and truly, as the phrase is coined, american. however, it is disheartening that some of those who supported kerry( mostly referring to international and domestic press) would now chalk the winning republican vote up as "religious based", "ignorant", "stupid", "blue-collar class", "inclined to machoism", "bush talks like them", and "not suppressed". yet still, i understand those who would be so pious as to discredit the intellect of the gop party are those who will help another republican candidate become president because of the sting such ignorant accusations us hill billy dunbfcks have felt and will remember ( unless off course were not to0 enthralled in ariostle's ethics, volunteering with a environmental group, and working our forty hour weeks to support ourselves bible thumping the pagans, cutting out star of davids for our iraqi friends, studying phonics, fueling up our xxl suvs on the way to little billy's soccer game, and ripping up democrats voter registrations- to give a shit what some british paper, the sore losers, and a few bitter npr journalists has deemed to be the culprit of a bush victory).

all in all, this past election was as ugly and as dirty as they come- and now that it's over, perhaps, we can all get back to being civilized; to being part of a bigger scheme, called life and not political parties.

cheers to four year presidential terms and pulling thumbs out of our asses.

ps-happy halloween.

the young boys

setting it up: on the other side of the window screen, the rain is pouring down in sheets; i'm wrapped up in a blanket, sitting in the living room talking to kate on the phone. she's telling me a story about how she ended up at a swingers bar the night before due to absolute naivete. little did i know then, but days later i would find myself on the other side of the phone, making a girlfriend or two laugh hysterically at my, ahem, absolute naivete.

friday night any bar/restaurant in dallas is insanely busy-so when i got a message from the hostess that a guy named "brian" called, i blew it off not out of only hast and being dumbfounded at who would call me at work, but as well, out of fear that it might be an old geezer that i had waited on and shot down on numerous occasions before. the next night, "brian" called again and this time around, i was free as a bird to decipher the mystery caller. as it turned out, his name wasn't brian, but ryan. the ryan i had met a week or two ago at the dwide when his band, which i went to see because a: my boss manages them, and b: i had made friends with the bass player at a party and had promised him i was going to come "check them out" next time; now, this ryan, is not only the said bassists younger brother, but also, is seventeen years old, in highschool, is a scorpio, hasn't yet quite decided if he'll go to prom or not, likes bukowski and red flag, and is cuter than a button. i know all this because, after their show that night back at the dwide, i found myself sitting next to the younger, and, being in a chatty little mood, spent most of the evening, excuse the repetitiousness, chatting away.

but the phone conversation at work was short and to the point:

"hanging out at dwide, if your not doing anything after work, you should come on up".

which i decided sounded like not too bad of an idea.

and so, i strolled on into the bar looking for 'the group', to my surprise, what i found instead was a quiet and adorable seventeen year old boy sitting at the bar sipping on his beverage in the non-alcoholic water cup...alone.

realizing at that moment it was going to, possibly, be just the two of us, i decided not to allow the awkwardness and embarrassment toil my 'off early' saturday night, and to the contrary, make the most of my under age date while still undoubtedly laying the foundation of "pals" as quicky as possible.

the remainder of the night went as follows:

beer and sunflower seeds
jack in the box
getting high in his car while listening to brian jonestown massacre
leaving with a side hug and a high five

whether or not my seventeen year old meant anything romantic by it, i'll never surely know. regardless, ryan was, hands down, one of my most enjoyable dates to date. maybe because he didn't try to 'get fresh' with me, maybe because it was like two new friends with loads in common pushing past the age gap and enjoying each others company; or, maybe because it seemed innocent and sweet; like absolute naivete should be.