New Book

The NYTimes listed it in the top 100 books of 2005. Almost all the other reviews seem to hate it. I think it's great. This is the overall feeling I was left with:

Mission to America is a heady and tangible exposure to the cruz between the obsolete old and the trashy new. The author, Walter Kirn, who also wrote Thumbsucker, seems to sense our civilization teetering on a precipice of excess, about to spill over, lost forever in the shallow, spinning depths below.
And he effectively shares this feeling with his readers.
I'm left knowing that New Ageism and esotheric leanings are wishy-washy blather just as a world of aesteticism and agnostics is empty and material. Furthermore, attempting to find answers or help others will just suck you dry.
According to the ending, it seems that John Lennon (perhaps one man who found the middle-ground in those extremes) was right all along: 'all you need is love.'

2005

I love Xmas. With or without the Christ. Doesn't matter to me, although the amount of Americans who think we should say 'merry christmas' as opposed to 'happy holidays' has increased 30% from last year.
It's been a good year for Republicans and fundamentalists.
That said, it's still been a good year all around. I've learned a fuck of a lot. Been fucked with a lot. And definitely not been fucked enough. But I feel stronger. And as enthusiastic as ever about what's around the next bend.
This is the first Xmas I've spent in LA even though I've lived here for 6 years. I already feel a tad homesick, but also realize I am finally ready to create my own memories instead of dwelling on the past.
At this beautiful moment, my life is bursting with new friends and old. Everything is festive and promising and shimmery with goodwill.
I better watch it. There's always a crash after a gushing bit of emotion like that.
Oh well. Fuck it. I'll be reckless and just feel good. Damn good.

Craigslist is getting better all the time. Now you can find anybody. One of my latest faves:

Hot Cuban guy mid-20s

---

Date: 2004-06-07, 9:35PM PST

We boxed for ten rounds in flyweight semis. You kept hugging me. I wanted to keep hugging you, but the ref said “stop.”

Was it just boxing?

***
and the reward for 'most romantic' should probably go to:

Longshot: Halloween 1972,

You were dressed as a hippie.

Questions

All of the following were posed to me over the space of 2 hours of hanging out with Rocco, my favoritest 10 year old friend that's a boy.

I'm driving along the 405, and this pipes up from the backseat, 'heidi, if you could have acid rays or acid rain, which would you choose?' Upon choosing the latter, he compliments me. 'Definitely. Cause then you could just open your acid-proof umbrella and run home to your house with anti-acid roof tiles. Acid rays could just burn a hole through both.'

Question #2: We're eating dinner. 'heidi, what was your favorite toy when you were little? Nature counts.'
My choices: 'trees, then my dollhouse.'
His: 'Legos, then nature, whenever i can have it.'
His twin sister's: 'My glass dolphin.'
To which he poses the follow-up query: 'so, what exactly would you do if your dolphin were to disappear?'

Question #3: Again, from the backseat: 'If you could be any explorer, who would you choose?'
He chooses this guy I've never heard of, who, apparently, 'died, but not brutally, and was the only explorer to discover one of the golden cities.'

he also informs me that i should follow his example and stop reading orson scott card's 'ender's game' because 'it's too violent.'

god i wish i was still ten and had all the answers.

pre-new year's jitters

in honor of upcoming resolution time, my friend and I have committed to cleaning up our acts.
For the next week, we will stubbornly refuse all self-inflicted or outside offers of
a) alcohol b) weed c) cigarettes and d) all other yummy illegal substances.
we may consider cutting out coffee next week.
isn't it cute how a background of extremism will make such choices feel honorable instead of just uh, extreme?
having duly noted this, we've agreed on one night of release. thursday night, lesbian bar, west hollywood.
except i'm not even a lesbian. oh well. i'm interested in what i'll be capable of, release-wise after having imbibed no outside substances for what it is, 4 straight days??!
this is gonna be good. i feel it.

PS if you're a med student with acess to psychadelics, i was kidding about part d).

this is real

If i ever venture into photography, i want to make a portfolio called 'real life.' i want photos of fat old couples helping each other stand in the foamy aftermath of a gentle wave. or a shot of an extreme skateboarder or BMXer the minute he loses the tournament, from the vantage point of whatever newest bloody injury he's sustained. i want photos of average girls putting on mascara; one eye already heavily decked, the other the way it really appears. i want to capture the moment when a middle-aged woman first looks in the mirror after having plastic surgery or liposuction done.
mostly, i would want photos of ordinary women, living real lives. fuck the fact that my beautiful 20 year old sister is 'too old' to enter the modeling profession.

**the cliche of a 'real life' portfolio has been duly noted, and i don't care. at least i didn't include an artsy shot of my own feet walking somewhere dismal.

contractions and contradictions

This Week's Schedule:
-Monday - can't remember (wait, partied somewhere)
-Tuesday - can't remember (wait, partied somewhere)
-Wednesday - that was last night, so i do remember. Partied.
-Tonight - supposed to go to lesbian night at club in west hollywood.
-Friday - film premiere of 'the family stone.'
-Saturday - art opening and downtown warehouse party with a date.
-Sunday - potentially chill? surf? write my novel?

My Friend Becky's Schedule:
-Monday - nurse her baby. make dinner. teach the 2 year old new words. Smile contendedly.
-Tuesday - the same.
and so on and so forth.

Talking today to Becky, a girl i share with whom i share a bday and a cult upbringing, made me feel perfunctory and debaucherous.

My over-ability to reason is driving me nuts. 'oh, it's so great to not have a boyfriend and just be young and single.' 'oh, i just want someone to hold me and want to make babies with my fabulous genes.' 'oh, i think i might be a lesbian.' 'oh, i should stop reading maureeen dowd's 'are men necessary' and elizabeth wurtzel's 'bitch' if i want to be clear on the former.' 'oh, i'm so happy to just have my family around to love and care for.' 'oh, is that all i'll ever be? a big-sister spinster?'
jeezus. it's not even that time of the month.
is there a pill i can take to stop thinking? wait, i abhore medication.

Oh wait God, one more thing?

Bigger Butts Need Longer Needles

By Reuters | 2:59 p.m.

Study shows fatter rear ends are causing many drug injections to miss their mark.

Lord, today's headlines also drive home this too-short point: excessive turkey and pumpkin pie consumption in the form of booty-not-licious fat rolls is yet another problem our degenerating society is faced with.
Oh Lord, please bring on Armageddon, already.
Amen. again.

AMEN

from salon.com:

This Thanksgiving, we took time to give thanks for all of our blessings, from pudding cups to plasma TVs. Mostly, though, we felt a deep sense of gratitude for these vast lands we unceremoniously snatched from the Indians, then zoned for commercial use. We're truly indebted to the good Lord for bestowing upon our ancestors the sense of entitlement needed to rape and pillage until prosperity was theirs.

Today, of course, we must also give thanks for corporate fraud, shady accounting practices, insider trading and the many other blessed ways that those with power and money fleece the powerless and the poor. Each day, let's vow to take pleasure in the simple joys of tax evasion and insurance fraud, to celebrate the widening of the gap between the haves and the have-nots, and to cherish our possessions above all else, while always striving to own more, more, more and still more. Let's also remember to be thankful to the media, for sheltering us from the underfed and the disenfranchised and the unphotogenic, telling us stories, instead, about the hottest gated communities and the best 8-cylinder engines and the latest Tom and Katie baby-bump sighting.

Let's pray that the good Lord will continue to bless us as we slowly destroy the earth in pursuit of needless self-indulgence, filthy excess and a vast array of distracting hand-held digital devices.

Restraint

"I am not given to exaggeration, and when I say a thing I mean it."
Mark Twain wrote this in a book titled 'Roughing It.'
It's something to aspire to, excitable blabbermouth that i am...

here it comes...

i'm feeling more and more thankful.
and feeling the urge to wear anything pumpkin-colored.

YIPES

Sam, World's Ugliest Dog, Dies at 14

Sam, the tiny dog whose hairless body and crooked teeth earned him a reputation as the World's Ugliest Dog, has died.

"I don't think there'll ever be another Sam," Susie Lockheed said, adding: "Some people would think that's a good thing."

Lockheed said she initially was terrified of Sam when she agreed to take him in as a rescue dog six years ago on a 48-hour trial basis. Although she fell in love with him, his appearance repulsed her then-boyfriend and prompted the man to break up with her.

Later, however, Sam became a matchmaker by bringing together Lockheed and her current beau, who saw a picture of the two on an online dating site.

She said she's felt a little lost ever since Sam passed away, and is sleeping with Sam's favorite toy - a stuffed bear he picked up and carried home.

Refreshment Recipe

Event: lesbian night in west hollywood.
Drink: Patron tequila shots and Johnny black label on the rocks.
Company: two heartbreaking works of staggering genius; aka good, smart friends i can count on.
Transportation: breakneck speed in the slow lane.

Mix drink and company, fold in event, add pinches of transportation. Let chill for several hours.

Customer Reviews:

"the perfect release mix to make the following morning's 'take-the-boss's-kids-to-school-at sunup' a little more bearable." *****
-Surrogate Soccor Mom

"This fabulous take on a classic brought a real flair to my usual sunday night bla-ness. Will definitely be using this recipe in the future!" *****
-Lonely in Los Angeles

"I don't know what the big deal is. You all obviously have no life and need each other to bolster confidence in your self-perceived genius." -*
-Mainstream Maverick

look it's me!

a poster-child for Scandinavian wholesomeness. front and center of the study-abroad website. circa winter, 2002
PS I almost hit a moose on the way down 5 mins. later

Scandinavian Urban Studies Term experience persuades students to look beyond the trolls, rose paintings, Norwegian wool sweaters and other traditions commonly associated with the region to learn about the depth and reality of modern day Scandinavia!

my sister rules!

that's Emily, blue shirt.

Hanover girls win fourth crown in five years
By KRIS RUSSELL
Union Leader Sports

NASHUA — Call it coincidence. Call it serendipity. Or just call it plain luck.

Hanover coach Hank Tenney won't mind what anybody calls it. He's too busy savoring another championship.

Thanks to newcomer Emily Hough, Tenney and the Marauders won their fourth Class I girls' soccer title in five years yesterday via a 2-0 triumph over Milford at Stellos Stadium.

Hough's completed a sensational tournament campaign by scoring both
Hanover goals. The twin markers gave the junior striker seven in four playoff outings.

Hanover celebrates their Class I girls' soccer championship after yesterday's 2-0 win over Milford at Stellos Stadium in Nashua. (THOMAS ROY/UNION LEADER)

Hough opened the scoring in the fourth minute, taking Rita Ciambra's long pass and firing in a left-footed shot off the shoulder of Spartan goalie Heather Blase. Hough's second was just as impressive. She raced full speed for Martha Rigby's lofted direct kick and deflected it with her head into the Milford net at 61:24.

All this from a player Tenney hadn't met before 2005 started.

Hough's family moved to the Upper Valley area from Connecticut. She matriculated into the Hanover school system well after Tenney's senior dominated 2004 team won the Class I championship.

Tenney was preparing for a rebuilding year. That changed when Hough made her entrance.

Man Kills Buck With Bare Hands in

Bedroom

The Associated Press
Wednesday, November 2, 2005; 1:02 PM

BENTONVILLE, Ark. -- For 40 exhausting minutes, Wayne Goldsberry battled a buck with his bare hands in his daughter's bedroom.

Goldsberry finally subdued the five-point whitetail deer that crashed through a bedroom window at his daughter's home Friday. When it was over, blood splattered the walls and the deer lay dead on the bedroom floor, its neck broken.

Goldsberry was at his daughter's home when he heard glass breaking. He went back to check on the noise and found the deer.

"I was standing about like this peeking around the corner when the deer came out of the bedroom," said Goldsberry. The deer ran down the hall and into the master bedroom _ "jumping back and forth across the bed."

Goldsberry entered the bedroom to confront the deer and, after a brief struggle, emerged to tell his wife to call police. After returning to the bedroom, the fight continued. Goldsberry finally was able to grip the animal and twist its neck, killing it.

Goldsberry, sore from the struggle, dragged the dead animal out of the house.

"He got kicked several times. He was walking bowlegged for a while," Deputy Doug Gay said.

At this time of year, a buck that sees its reflection in a window often charges, believing it is fighting off a rival, Gay said.

Goldsberry intended to have the deer processed for its meat.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN mwaahahaha

sounds suspiciously like 'labia.' is this an undercover form of misoginy?!

The Word of the Day for October 31 is:

lamia \LAY-mee-uh\ noun :
a female demon : vampire

According to Greek mythology, Lamia was a queen of Libya who was beloved by Zeus. When Hera, Zeus's wife, robbed her of her children from this union, Lamia killed every child she could get into her power. Stories were also told of a fiend named Lamia who, in the form of a beautiful woman, seduced young men in order to devour them and who also sucked the blood of children. Such nightmarish legends uncannily compelled poet John Keats, and many other writers before and after him, to write their own tales of Lamia, which still haunt and terrify those souls who dare read them.

The Quest of Loooove

read the above in a deep drawl, for full effect

Dating is a tricky thing. It's not friendship, really. And it's not love. You bob into and out of each other's lives faster than the Energizer Bunny on a mission.
So what the fuck am I doing tap-tapping around intimacy with near-strangers? Thoughts like these come to mind at the most inappropriate times...like, 'ooh,' 'ahh,' 'wait, gotta go.'
I'm starting to see it for exactly what it is...exploring a moment of magic where, for at least one date, we are each other's It.
You get to explore your different sides...one minute I'm feeling hippiesh, next hipster, sometimes reminiscing about a cult-ish past, other times talking business plans. It's an opportunity to learn new things, not least about yourself.
And it's a heady convergence with a bunch of chemical reactions taking you to new places.
Study. Travel. Mushrooms. Sports. Now I can add 'Dating' to my list of adventures.
I sound like Frodo on a mission.

I mean, come ON. 'you gonna give it up or what?' that's what the last dude i 'dated' said to me.

Word of the Day

Read the background on this sheisty little word!

burke \BERK\ verb *1 : to suppress quietly or indirectly 2 : bypass, avoid

Example sentence: The governor attempted to discreetly burke all inquiries into his alleged misuse of state funds.

Did you know? When an elderly pensioner died at the Edinburgh boarding house of William Hare in 1827, the proprietor and his friend William Burke decided to sell the body to a local anatomy school. The sale was so lucrative that they decided to make sure they could repeat it. They began luring nameless wanderers (who were not likely to be missed) into the house, getting them drunk, then smothering or strangling them and selling the bodies. The two disposed of at least 15 victims before murdering a local woman whose disappearance led to their arrest. At Burke's execution (by hanging), irate crowds shouted "Burke him!" As a result of the case, the word "burke" became a byword first for death by strangulation and eventually for any cover-up.

FOOD FIGHT!

Somebody found a 4,000 year old bowl of noodles in the mountains of Japan. The discovery is challenging the belief that Italians invented pasta.
Shit's gon' go DOowwwn.
picture the mafia, some suma wrestlers, and a lot of flying noodles.

Would You Watch this Show?

Here's part of my latest TV treatment, reworked from a friend's idea.

*Make A Wish*

"You Asked For It”

_

Nutshell: The reality show that’s a fairy-tale come to life; with a twist. Through street interviews, e-mail and snail-mail submissions, potential participants – as yet unaware of the show - will reveal their wackiest, most personal, or otherwise most interesting desires. Selected participants will be reminded of the adage ‘Be careful what you wish for; you just might get it’ when they unexpectedly experience the reality of receiving their outlandish wish. The MAKE A WISH team will choose each week’s wish based on entertainment value, feasibility, and production cost.

Cast and Crew:
The MAKE A WISH show will feature a FEMALE HOST: A ‘fairy godmother’ of sorts; think the wise-cracking, nose-wrinkling, matronly English hostess of ‘HOW CLEAN IS YOUR HOUSE.’
CAST and CREW will include anyone and everyone on the production staff (the MAGIC-MAKERS team) as part of the behind-the-scenes filming approach.

Image Concept:
-Picture a hot-pink billboard with a fairy god-mother waving her star-trailing wand over the show’s title: ‘MAKE A WISH.’ Except that ‘You asked for it!’ is the glossy-black italicized byline beneath, and god-mother’s twinkling eyes and one raised-eyebrow suggest something slightly more edgy, even potentially hazardous to your health.
-A print-ad, with more room for description, could work the concept of ‘The Fairy God-mother’s Evil Twin’ and her doppelganger team of Elves (‘MAGIC-MAKERS). ‘When magic-makers roll up their sleeves and get to work.’
-A TV commercial could open to the sweet tones of ‘Bibbity-bobbity-baaaaaaaaeeeeeewwwww.’ Tone-downslide.

Possible Wishes:
1. I want to make out with Orlando Bloom. (ok, well I do!)
2. I want to have a tree house that I can actually live in.
3. 8 Year old Billy has always wanted to drive a tank over some cars.
4. I want to actually be a pirate in the Caribbean.
5. I want to ride in an Amish buggy.
6. I want to swim in a pool of Jell-O
7. I want a date, just one date, with my long ago high-school sweetheart.
8. I want to clone a sheep.
9. I want to get in the Guinness Book of World Records for baking the largest Cupcake.
10. I want a cameo appearance as a Simpson Character.
11. I want to blow up my crappy old car and still get charity-donation credit from the IRS.
12. I want a pet Kangaroo that I can walk-hop down the Venice Boardwalk.
13. I want to be shot out of a cannon.
14. I want to learn to sky board (skydiving with a snowboard).
15. I want to go naked to Burning Man.
16. I want to build a snowman at the North Pole.
17. I want a house built out of Legos.
18. I want to push a piano (or my boss) off a skyscraper.
19. I want one more shot at being the pro football/baseball/basketball player I should have been.
20. I want to be surrounded by Playmates in a hot-tub at the Playboy mansion.

Making Spirits Bright

"Do you have a personal air conditioner I could borrow?"
Santa Claus wipes his brow as he waits for the 'Dear Santa' TV show casting call.
"I didn't want to use mine in the car on the way here. Gas prices these days..."
He tries to steer the conversation towarsd fuel and energy conservation, but all I can think is, 'why not just take the reindeer?'

I've been screening Santas all day. They roll off the elevators one hearty 'ho-ho' at a time. Now, if only there was tintinnabulation* it'd be perfect.
Ah well, life could be more boring...

*obviously I just wanted to use that word: \tin-tuh-nab-yuh-LAY-shun\ noun 1 : the ringing or sounding of bells *2 : a jingling or tinkling sound as if of bells

How You Doin this Morning?

I issue the requisite receptionist-greeting to Mario, a production assistant on the TV show Blind Date. I'm temporarily working at the front-desk.
He responds, "Girl, it's another day in Hollywood. So I'm doin amazin."
There's a pause for my surprised transition to dubious enthusiasm. As a general rule, Hollywood is popular everywhere but within its own borders.
"Oh! That's a good thing?"
"Girl, sometimes I look around me, and I think I'm in a dream. I'm in Hollywood, man! I grew up down South. Pickin' peas and shit." He scoops up the mail and starts down the sunshine-yellow hallway. His pearly whites outshine a backdrop of glossy larger-than-life TV posters.
"Sometimes I look down as I'm walking, and I'm like, 'Lookit' yo feet! Look where they're walkin'!"
Mario is a singer/songwriter. He's been here for 2 years and still has the enthusiasm that just might carry him onto, across, and over the Green Day- dubbed 'boulevard of broken dreams.'
So how am I doing this morning? Renewed. Ready to spend another 8 hours working on my latest TV treatment. Revitalized to chase my own dreams for another day.

UPDATE PS
yep, i stayed in LA. and i'm glad.

to leave or not to leave

that is the question.
I feel good. I love working hard and throwing myself into something.
we're having the wrap party tonight for 'how clean is your house.'
I have 6 days to look for a new film/tv gig or head home to vermont.
I want to finish my novel, which involves necessary space,
but I am also enjoying right where I am, right now.
is leaving 'running away' or 'being responsible?'
what to do, what to do.

Change

It's in the air.
I might stay.
My birthday was full of promises.

there is a lot of creative energy in the air tonight.

i want to remember that my tight-ass tv crew rallied together, sang me happy bday, and sent me home early tonight so it could be special for me. that made this year memorable.

a quarter-of-a-century, here I come.

For a Boy

Not This Time.
(flies. in the blink of an eye.)
Sweet 16: i snuck out of the house to see a boy. blinked like, once.
18: switched colleges for a boy, blinked again and kissed that boy as i turned
Forever 21, blinked for a split second and said, oh shit. what happened to the 'forever' part?
In twenty five minutes I'll be 25.
I'm keeping my eyes wide open and turned inward from here on out.
Happy Birthday. For me!! whoo-hoo!

Cold. Inside and out.
Robitusson, even loaded up with plenty of DM, isn't helping.
Still cold.
maybe leaving will help...wait. Vermont is freezing.
ah well, at least we'll have something in common. which is hard to find these days.
maybe we'll make sweet, frosty love and warm each other up.

reality bites

Mom: 'agh, do you realize that this Hurricane Katrina is going to have ripple effects across America for years to come? grain, oil, disease, lives, Bush...it's the worst thing since the Holocaust! agh...'
Dad: 'hi honey, i know we haven't talked in a month but...can you come to Vermont a little early to babysit the kids while I go visit my latest Latin American girlfriend in Lima, Peru?'
best friend: 'come ON, just get in the pool naked with me. who cares if it's your former boss the screenwriter'...or else let's just go home so i can make out with your roommate.'
former boss: 'i'll dim the lights and won't look, i promise!'
sister: 'i wanna get the fuck out of this place where this stupid old dude invites a ton of sluts so he can pick through them'....'argh! i haven't talked to my boyfriend in 24 hours and I'm not going to see him for another 48. that's why i'm crying bucketfuls of tears and stamping my feet.'
random 'slut': 'Bali? that's in America, right?'
roommate: kissing sounds with my best friend.
couple in my group of friends: 'we got married at burning man!'
guy i'm trying not to date who insists on oblivion: 'i see you setting yourself up with your friends for the same drama you just went through; do you want to live in an ivory tower forever?'...'you looked so beautiful today it hurt my eyes.'
Me: 'hey roommates! how was burning man? Me, I lost my job and the snake and am leaving town. but i baked you a cake. see, it says, 'welcome back!'

NEW SEASON GOALS

WORK: Finish two novels by springtime.
EMOTIONAL: (1) Learn how to love people without letting them walk all over me. (2) Stay single.
SPIRITUAL: Meditate at least 5 minutes every day.
FAMILY: Help launch my sister's modeling career.
PHYSICAL: Surf all winter; be able to handle and ride 5-6 footers by springtime.
MENTAL: Learn to recognize the difference between my wants and needs. Choose only needs for awhile. (at least until i discover that perhaps they're indistinguishable).

last year i found an old list of long-term 'to-do's' in my diary. i didn't even remember writing it, but realized i had done each of the goals in some capacity or another, since that time.

The Last Supper

alone in LA, that is.
my little sister gets here tomorrow afternoon. for good. to seek her fortune in the (groan, clasp hands in futile hope) modeling profession.
I CAN'T WAIT.

we will drink wine and play in the waves and smoke weed and giggle like schoolgirls and bake cookies and take over hollywood.
whoo hoo!

GOOFINESS DISCLAIMER:
in pre-celebratory excess i have been sipping cabrenet - does it still count as supper if minus the bread? - and painting my toenails. with my roommate who now sports golden cuticles. (i don't think it's his color, and mine look like a 5 year old did them. i'm working on the girl thing, but i'm kinda bad at it)

Return to the Hippie Fold (or not)

from my latest novel...

It’s about the quality you spend on life, not the quantity. Esthar hadn’t felt that fact so keenly since she was a barefoot teenager hitchhiking to music festivals with her hippie friends. Everybody looks at you askance, the creatures on the fringe. Whimsical well-wishers and suspicious law-abiders alike waver between fascination and fear. To challenge and defy social norms is to risk the by turns tantalizing and terrifying label of freak. And now, after all her high-end dabbling and pretentious pontificating, Esthar realized that the disapproving, curious sideways glances were merely the look on the other side of the same people’s faces. And if the smoke and mirrors of social acceptance were all that were keeping her from feeling the sand between her toes and wearing what she wanted, they could crash and burn around her for all she cared. It was about forging her own path instead of following the maze that societal norms had laid out for her. Maybe she didn’t want to help put up those walls after all. Maybe she wanted to keep walking in a straight line.
Oh shit, thought Esthar. After all my maturing and growing and career-building I’ve come back full circle as a dip-shit conspiracy-theory screw-the-man hippie.
Except that now I’m older than the first time so it’s a little more absurd.
But she caught herself.
Ah, fuck it. I’m nothing but myself. And I’m being true to that. This is me.

Summer of the Sssnake

THE CATALYST



neighbors (closely related to the Lizard King)

Tarzan roommate



roomie's dodgeball helmet (the snake loves it, we're pretty sure anyway)


free of dreads for 1st time in 3 yrs.








Crocodile Hunter moment in my living room:

So, this afternoon I left the cage open, cause I'm really on top of my shit. The neighbors came over. 'Where's the snake??' SHITTTTTTTTTTTT.
'Oh, there's his tail, disappearing down the heater-hole. Grab it, quick.'
OH, he's going to fight. GRRRRRREAT. A flashlight, three helpers, sore muscles, a sweaty brow, and ten minutes later, we got the cranky bastard back in our clutches. I think I'll leave him in the cage for a few days.
Need I note that sticking my hand down a hole to grope for a snake's head that hates me while holding his whipping musclature in my other hand was not something my snake-phobia would have imagined when I moved in. Goes to show you can change anything.

buddhist 'wisdom' or 'defeatism?'

"Body impermanent like spring mist; mind insubstantial like empty sky; thoughts unestablished like breezes in space. Think about these three points over and over."

-Adept Godrakpa, "Hermit of Go Cliffs"

whatever the final judgement call on this attitude may be, I know one thing; life truly does seem to work like this. Does this make humans fickle or just one more species in nature?

more personally, am I shallow because my feelings change as frequently as the weather?

'you can't handle love, it's obvious...' thanks Bjork for the backup lyrics to my thoughts...

Roam

there is a spider in the corner bobbing in rythym to aphex twin's eerie-aery tune 'mould.'
the tangible poetry of this frozen moment feels like participation in a tribal dance.

i wish i could get work off to go to burning man. i need to roam. away from rome. soon.

ma' family ah' love

sent a letter to the pro BMX-sponsored bro right beneath me: (or rather, according to the pic, above me)

ah, young one, why must you proliferate in breezy shows of articulate proliferance? why not just shine as the motherfuckin' free spirit you be? hehe
yeah hah, just got my groove on to a proliferance of kurt cobain, madonna and busta rymes at my nearest pub.
yahoo.
and now i'm alone. all alone. wishin you were here.
abbi's moving to LA, did i mention? poor sweet, hot dear, is in a world of trouble when it comes to the BF. sad but true. she's gonna grow up alot here.
ben's favorite line is, 'ya' gotta' lotta' guts, pat.' everytime i talk to him and sound slightly insane, that's what he throws at me. it's HILARIOUS.
anywho, drunk off my arse, hope to talk to you soon.


(trust, he was frontin, check this: "whats up, one of exalted nature? its mighty ruler. how do the priceless hours of life's wind blow? ... has the antecedent duration of individual existence proven erstwhile and quondam or newfangled and unprecedented? keep an independent self sufficient outlook a habit and you will ensure preeminent personal remuneration. am i trying your mind a little yet? hard to do to an individual of your intellectual stature. reply with a mind blowing showdown of a response, or im gonna tell everyone i can beat you in a 100 yard dash")

i can't believe it

The Word of the Day for July 20 is:
smarmy \SMAR-mee\ adjective *1 : revealing or marked by a smug, ingratiating, or false earnestness 2 : of low sleazy taste or quality

Smarmy the goldfish is not 2 days fresh in his watery toilet grave, and this, THIS, THIS is the random word-of-the-day delivered to my email inbox?!

Life is cruel.

A Beach Bum's Late Weekend

What an utterly fulfilling last couple days.
Bought a surfboard and wet suit. for cheap, cheap, cheap, backed by the 20-questions of my surf-saavy neighbors being flung at the craigslist unfortunate who found himself suddenly not selling quite so easily to an inexperienced chick.
skateboarded to a surf shop the next morning to get resin for the nose, with a stop-off at an awesome little book-shop coffeehouse where I predict I'll be spending massive amounts of time scribbling away at my novels.
Speaking of, started a new one, which is absolutely the best decision. No reason not to grab and hang on to the daily adventures floating past, which is essentially what my counterculture-bridget-jones type tale is about...
Cleaned my room and found 2 bear claws and a bear tooth that I thought were long-lost. they're from a bear that attacked the native alaskan village on the yukon river that i lived in a few summers back. Took 'em down to the boardwalk, found a rasta to wire and string them up...got a hole drilled in the tooth by an indigenous Peruvian wood carver who didn't speak a lick of english. finally, spanish comes in completely and necessarily handy.
Am now the owner of one bad-ass necklace whose wearing speaks almost as effectively on late-night strolls as a can of mace or a stun gun. or so i think, just like i'm convinced that my shoulders broaden when i square them at scary bums.
and finally, went sunset surfing. enough said.
ps. had a triple-chocolate dessert at a dope-ass restaurant. now it's really all been said.

Trip-Out

i wonder what it would be like to wander with someone i love. someone who's as addicted to tripping on traveling as me.

the spanish singer Astrud Gilberto is crooning 'ba ba ba da' over a banjo.
"felicidade...someone to hold my hand...take me to aruanda...summer samba... only trust your heart...because love is the saddest thing when it goes away..."
I want to be in a land faraway, trekking across rocky streams, eating papayas, dodging horses and cows in dusty streets, taking siestas under a sombrero, speaking sassy spanglish to disapproving shopkeepers, scribbling poetry in a leather journal on the rooftops of Cuban casas, and wrapping up in a woven blanket in a rainbow hostel at the end of the night...

wanderlust is tugging at my chest like a bad case of heartache. Is that why i run? to escape the impossible pursuit of resolution within gain, loss and the apathy in between? to defiantly attempt to leap out of the spiral of inevitable circularity that is this life?

for however briefly, yes.

and because new sounds, sights and tastes are my drug of choice.

oh and because reading the wizardry of gabriel garcia marquez's '100 years of solitude' has been giving me daily spanish-country flashbacks.

Things 2 Live By

"There are 2 things you should adhere to in life.
1)Always tell the truth
2)Never do anything you don't want to do."

The problem is, what if those 2 things clash? What if what you want to do is say whatever fits the situation best, if it's the truth or not?
Well #1, I think, if followed, ends up guaranteeing the long-term realization of #2.
I New Year's-resolutioned that quote years ago, and I'm more enthusiastic than ever about sticking to it. (#1 in an 'avoid the drama of falseness that always catches up with you' kind of way, and #2 not in a defeatist, lazy way, but in a 'be true to yourself and don't be a one of the sheep' kind of way.) That said, I feel like marching off backed up by my solid little #1 and #2 and happily telling back-stabbing 'friends' i've wasted silly amounts of time being falsely nice to, that they can go to hell and stay there.

I made that vow 'Years ago' already? Wow. Growing up is so crazy, sexy cool. I mean, scary as shit. I mean, I can't stop it, so I'm just hanging on for a dear life. I hope.
Isn't life supposed to become less complicated, at least in your head, as you gain wisdom and maturity? maybe that was just wishful thinking inundated into me in my youth by hopeful adults lost enough to believe in having it all figured out.
sometimes it seems like I'm just gaining more convulted and jaded observations, thoughts, ideas and most of all questionsto whambamslam into my already overly-analytical skull.
But. As I grow I choose to remain adventurous and courageous and open-minded and most of all, soft-hearted. Never too scarred and scared to love again. Scabs are so ugly and healing is so fresh and beautiful. At least I have control over that miracle.

And thank the gods that my belief in #2 has already led me to choose the un-jam your skull catharsis of a writing career.

..and it's still going...

Dude, I promise to stop after this one. But this is my WORD! right here. right now.

turophile \TOOR-uh-fyle\ noun : a connoisseur of cheese : a cheese fancier

shout-outs to all the peeps that feel me on this one.
abigail?....

On a New Word Kick

borborygmi: rumbling sounds caused by gas movement in the stomach.

thanks MD/PHd study-buddy for that useful palabra.

Words of 2005

The Washington Post's Mensa Invitational once again asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, orchanging one letter, and supply a new definition. Here are this year's {2005} winners:

Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.
Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.
Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.
Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.
Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.
Glibido: All talk and no action.
Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.
Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an asshole.

UCLA Study On Friendship Among Women

Well, something about the flippant, layman's-terms way in which this is written smells fishy to my upturned-nose academic side, but it's so worth reading. I've found myself referencing this challenge to traditional notions of stressed-out humans' behavior on a regular basis in conversation.
PS: as my friend Matthew pointed out, men too are free to indulge in nurturing and gathering instead of hightailing it to the darkest solitary corner, to discount the rather cheezy conclusion.

An alternative to fight or flight by Gale Berkowit
A landmark UCLA study suggests friendships between women are special. They shape who we are and who we are yet to be. They soothe our tumultuous inner world, fill the emotional gaps in our marriage, and help us remember who we really are. By the way, they may do even more. Scientists now suspect that hanging out with our friends can actually counteract the kind of stomach-quivering stress most of us experience>on a daily basis. A landmark UCLA study suggests that women respond to stress with a cascade of brain chemicals that cause us to make and maintain friendships with other women. It's a stunning find that has turned five decades of stress research---most of it on men---upside down. Until this study was published, scientists generally believed that when people experience stress, they trigger a hormonal cascade that revs the body to either stand and fight or flee as fast as possible, explains Laura Cousin Klein, Ph.D., now an Assistant Professor of>Biobehavioral Health at Penn State University and one of the study's authors. It's an ancient survival mechanism left over from the time we were chased across the planet by saber-toothed tigers. Now the researchers suspect that women have a larger behavioral repertoire than just fight or flight. In fact, says Dr. Klein, it seems that when the hormone oxytocin is release as part of the stress responses in a woman, it buffers the fight or flight response and encourages her to tend children and gather with other women instead. When she actually engages in this tending or befriending, studies suggest that more oxytocin is released, which further counters stress and produces a calming effect. This calming response does not occur in men, says Dr.Klein, because testosterone---which men produce in high levels when they're under stress---seems to reduce the effects ofoxytocin. Estrogen, she adds, seems to enhance it. The discovery that women respond to stress differently than men was made in a classic "aha" moment shared by two women scientists who were talking one day in a lab at UCLA. There was this joke that when the women who worked in the lab were stressed, they came in, cleaned the lab, had coffee, and bonded, says Dr. Klein. When the men were stressed, they holed up somewhere on their own. I commented one day to fellow researcher Shelley Taylor that nearly 90% of the stress research is on males. I showed her the data from my lab, and the two of us knew instantly that we were onto something. The women cleared their schedules and started meeting with one scientist after another from various research specialties. Very quickly, Drs. Klein and Taylor discovered that by not including women in stress research, scientists had made a huge mistake: The fact that women respond to stress differently than men has significant implications for our health. It may take some time for new studies to reveal all the ways that oxytocin encourages us to care for children and hang out with other women, but the "tend and befriend" notion developed b! y Drs. Klein and Taylor may explain why women consistently outlive men. Study after study has found that social ties reduce our risk of disease by lowering blood pressure, heart rate, and cholesterol. There's no doubt, says Dr. Klein, that friends are helping us live longer. In one study, for example, researchers found that people who had no friends increased their risk of death over a 6-month period. In another study, those who had the most friends over a 9-year period cut their risk of death by more than 60%. Friends are also helping us live better. The famed Nurses' Health Study fromHarvard Medical School found that the more friends women had, the less likely they were to develop physical impairments as they aged, and the more likely they were to be leading a joyful life. In fact, the results were so significant, the researchers concluded, that not having close friends or confidants was as detrimental to your health as smoking or carrying extra weight. And that's not all. When the researchers looked at how well the women functioned after the death of their spouse, they found that even in the face of this biggest stressor of all, those women who had a close friend and confidante were more likely to survive the experience without any new physical impairments or permanent loss of vitality. Those without friends were not always so fortunate. Yet if friends counter the stress that seems to swallow up so much of our life these days, if they keep us healthy and even add years to our life, why is it so hard to find time to be with them? That's a question that also troubles researcher Ruthellen Josselson, Ph.D., co-author of Best Friends: The Pleasures and Perils of Girls' and Women's Friendships (Three Rivers Press, 1998). The following paragraph is, in my opinion, very, very true and something all women should be aware of and NOT put our female friends on the back burners. Every time we get overly busy with work and family, the first thing we do is let go of friendships with other women, explains Dr. Josselson. We push them right to the back burner. That's really a mistake because women are such a source of strength to each other. We nurture one another. And we need to have unpressured space in which we can do the special kind of talk that women do when they're with other women. It's a very healing experience.

"yeah, i wanna kill her"

...when bitches fuck with me, it's like, OVER,"

says the click-clacking conversation that just walked past my house. I know how those random drunk neighbors feel, though. Control issues and nsecurity have a way of misdirecting natural healing processes into petty drama, especially when you're female. did I say that? oops, my bad, feminism.
I'm in a half-way here, half-way there kind of confusion with old friends and new.
there was an invisible but weighty divide between my black-clad indie best friends and my sun-bleached homies tonite. I just tried to focus on the sound of the waves and ride the divide, but ineffectually enough that the snooty Hollywood versus laid-back Venice memory is now bothering me.
there are no cool-o-meter cops patroling the ranks of 'fashion sense' 'who-you-know' and 'what-you-do,' people. there really is no mechanism out there to give you college-esque GPAs on social success. the thumbs-up is gonna have to come from within.
hipster or beach bum? what's my thing? and why should there be a genre?
How about 'just living?'
***
"hell, no."
"look, calm down."
i will not calm down, motherfucka. that shit is fucked UP."
this time the walk-by conversation was two dudes.
I guess it goes both ways!
ah, humans, us lovable hateful, silly, silly things.

cinnamon toast

I've burned two pieces in a row, due to the mad frenzy in which I am dashing around my home, completing perfunctory tasks at some early a.m. hour.
just chill, Heidi. sit down by the toaster oven, and take a deep, cinnamony breath of leisure.
I've got too much shit going on, and I can't stop. And I don't have a battery insert, the way I seriously suspect that annoying energizer bunny does.
ok, my toast is done. right, this time.
and I'm back, slice in hand.
some dude in his huge, solitary mansion just tried to charm his way into my pants all night, under the, it turns out, false cover of 'friends hanging out.' and I was like, uh uh, pops.
I hate when guys with money think they can have whatever they want. It makes me more convinced than ever that I don't want to end up with someone that has more dough than me, that's for sure.
ok, I'm gonna go continue reading 'one hundred years of solitude' and fall asleep now.

Little Red Corvette

OK, I don't drive one, nor do I expect to in the near future, but the song fucking rocks my world. As anyone who's been in my vicinity recently can attest, I've been jamming to Prince on a regular basis.
And I will use the excuse of blurry 3am ramblings to note here that I talked to the man himself tonite! FUCK YEAH. FUCK YEAH.

Oh, and on an other-events-of-the-day-tip I also bought a goldfish and named him Smarmy.
Bad-conontations name, perhaps, but nevertheless, it works. Besides, I leave it up to his orangey self to reinvent the meaning of the word in his little bowl. (to which I introduced a white rose to jump-start the process, which was left over from the Jermaine Dupris party this eve.)
blah, blah, I know...

The Word of the Day for June 24 is:
cocooning \kuh-KOON-ing\ noun: the practice of spending leisure time at home in preference to going out

summer lovin'

had me a blast









farewell to the most dapper man in my life. we shall meet again soon, in his neck of the woods. aka vermont.yay, bro.

Silver Linings

The saltwater breeze, bright tropical colors and a zesty cocktail of Californication on my local Venice Beach are picking my spirits up and depositing them back on blissful cloud 9 where I, until recently, could most consistently be found floating.
Interpretation in regular English: life is grand!

The weekend was a whirl. Participated in the dubious exercise of dodging 60mph balls for fun in the Hollywood dodgeball tournament, skeedaddled down to the waves with a boogie board and kicked up my heels to the lilting tunes of my fun new neighbor's wooden Pied Piper flute at a Willy Wonka party.

Gratefully missed my ex at the same by 10 minutes. But despite the efforts of my Oompa Loompa get-up - hot pink wig and almost-naughty white kneesocks -, my mood rapidly spiralled to bad-mushroom-trip proportions at even the suggestion of his presence.

So I cried, cried some more, laughed a little, hugged my brother, curled up with my friends, and clambered back onto that cloud.

It's Hot. Don't Touch It.

'Don't be Heedless'
Don't burn & complain: 'This is pain.'

the 'buddhist wisdom' delivered randomly to my email inbox this morn. Makes so much sense, and yet so does spontaneously cumbusting ;) just for the thrill of the heat. What pain?
Oh. THAT feeling. Immediately after.
no thanks. but wait, i want it.
yes, yes, I speak in veiled terms of unresolved longing...

but is longing ever truly resolved? or just gradually dissipated as reality marches forward?

Me Miss Mexican Mole

***
Life is such a hectic whirl right now. And yet, I suppose I wouldn't have it any other way, seeing as I always manage to surround myself with action no matter where I go.
Brentwood magazine is a nuthouse filled with perks like the Beverly Hills restaurant review, art gallery opening and celebrity charity fundraiser complete with gift bags that I'm attending just this week alone. I'm hanging on for dear life and getting those clips for as long as my nibbled fingertips can dig in. That's a convenient analogy to politically correctedly describe the complete power-struggling, bankrupt drama that is my boss. Oops, i said it anyway!

But overall, life is lovely. I am hell-bent, steely-eyed, petal-to-the-metal focused out the racing windshield that is my career. Good thing I'm pursuing the creative thing I love most; writing. It makes earning beans so much more fun.

My brother Ben just gave a little snore-snort from his couchbed. I adore having his witty little Funyon-breath, tye-died 13 yr. old self waiting for me when i get home. I wish it was for more than just this 2-week visit treat. He is the cutest thing on the planet, even though he declined the mole-doused over-easy eggs with corn tortillas that I made him this morning. I don't see what's wrong with a little spicy-chocolate concoction poured over runny yolks, but whatever.
Mexico definitely had a lasting influence on me. I wish I could go visit Viole in Chiapas, just finish writing my damn novel already, and subsist on mole.

What is Happiness? well I'll tell ya!

At risk of sounding new agey tiresome to my generally nonexistent cyber-audience, here is a quote that I want to remember. It reminds me of what I used to know when I was younger and traveling in Scandanavia.
(ah, the wisdom of youth, back when I was 22 instead of 24)

"I believe that just being conscious of our ability to shift our rhythms within the fabric of a frenetic society will make our hours less anxious, our days less stressful, and our lives more complete.
It will, simple enough, make us happier.
Happiness has a rythym, too. Happy people seem to live less frenetically. They have more time in their lives. They are more in the moment. This happiness is available to all of us."
-stephan rechtschaffen

It's so easy to get caught up in the daily grind and give in to pointless anxiety. like Jesus said, 'which of you, by worrying, can add one cubit to his stature?' (thanks christianity-examination novel-that-I'm-currently writing, for that tidbit)
I read a Time magazine article on the origin and causes of happiness recently. It discovered that 1) faith plays a huge role in peoples' level of gladness and 2) how much $$ you make and where you live plays an amazingly small role (like 8%) in your general satisfaction. What it all comes down to is if you're around family and friends whom you love.
I am, accordingly, shaping my life around making sure at least 1, preferably more, of my kick-ass 7 siblings will be around me in some respect at all times.
Now about the faith thing...agnosticism (i have NO idea if that's a word, but fuckit) is kind of an inevitable by-product of education at least in my case. But I still believe that god is within me and all around me, and it's up to me how much I want her to be realized in my own life (nothin' like a little esoteric mumbo jumbo to mask that I have no idea what I'm talking about).
but I'm contemplating it, and that alone makes me happy.
damnit, I wish they had big, goofy, drooling smiley faces that I could tack on right HERE.

Wandering in Wisconsin

"So, Thomas, how do you like living in Wisconsin?" I ask my recently relocated 9 year old articulate little brother. "It's allright," he nods agreeably.
He blinks his long eyelashes and contemplates the question further.
"I guess I never heard of bratwurst until I moved here. Everybody eats it here. That's pretty cool, I guess."
***
Cruising at 40 mph along the one-lane highway we pass some deer grazing.
"whoo! It's a six-pointer!" Sam the 11 year old points at the buck. "I wish I had a gun."
"Why would you want to shoot it?" the LA vegan-friendly older sister asks indignantly.
"Everyone likes to shoot things around here," Sam explains. "And stick the heads on the wall."
"And then they eat the bodies!" Thomas chimes in.

atlas shrugged

I dreamed I had sex with Ayn Rand. She started it.

(And Atlas was like, 'who cares?')

Encouragement

wow, between spoonfuls of Trader Joe's Belgian Chocolate pudding (so luscious! so creamy!) and the best letter-from-a-friend I've received since, I don't know, there was a frost in Echo Park, things have suddenly become a lot more cheery:

Darling, if you ever ever need to talk to someone at any time of the
day about something that's fucking with you, just call me aiight.
I'll always be here to listen. I really do know how it is.
A small reminder though, is that we're in our 20's. This is the time
to be discontent. We're still working towards a future. We're the
lucky ones that don't already have babies and aren't forced to live
out any specific path that we chose as kids- you know. We're among
that young, educated, creative class of lucky bitches who can
actually chose a future in a career that we find fulfilling and be
picky about the people we keep around. We've got years and years to
pick and chose. You've only been single for a tiny bit, and I assure
you, we'll run into a bunch a great folks. With one or more of them,
I'm certain we'll find that deep intellectual and physical connection
we seek and deserve. We should be enjoying the chase damn it. Cuz
we're cute AND smart AND motivated AND soooo far ahead of the game.
Its not even fucking funny!!!
'Jah

thanks, aldous

"You can't play Electro-magnetic Golf according to the rules of Centrifugal Bumble-puppy."

this line alone makes reading 'brave new world' worth it.

"The reasonable man adapts himself to the world," wrote George Bernard Shaw. "The unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore, all progress depends on the unreasonable man."

The article that quotes this goes on to point out that in no other time in history has the power elite allowed outside forces (corporate structure) to dictate their choices.
(which of course, would be far more significant to me were I actually a member of the decidedly active anti-corporate power elite, but hey...working towards it, i s'pose...)
for further progressive ruminations on restructuring the work-world, click on the link below:

http://www.nytimes.com/2005/05/25/opinion/25miller.html?th&emc=th

It's always nice to don a poncho

notes my new roommate, jean, as we return from a miles-long rollerblade/bike jaunt along a moonlit seascape.
ahhh.

'what's a guy gotta do to getta girl in this town?'

the country singer twangs on...
'just a sweet little somethin' to put my arms around...'

I swivel my black-leather chair and use the momentum to thrust my body in the position of the 'tracking' button on the clock radio posing as entertainment in the cramped office of Brentwood magazine.
But before I can change the station to the soothing tones of 89.9's 'Morning Becomes Eclectic' my hyper-aware boss hollers from his back office. 'Whaddya' doin?' He stalks into the main room with the easy assurance and stiff-arm stance of a former model/minor league baseball player. He pats me on my faded beret letting his big hand rest for the exactly one extra blip in time that eases across the line between friendly and inappropriate.
"Don't worry honey," he patronizes in fatherly tones, which make his office decor of hot blond models under the age of 25 all the more creepy, "You'll learn to appreciate country music more, as you get older."

Peace

There is something deeply satisfying to be found in spending significant amounts of time hanging out with yourself. I feel like I can't get enough of getting to know me all over again.
And doing something productive is like throwing back an extra shot to compliment the buzz.

(Or maybe it's the four different kinds of pain/cold medication I'm on right now...)

Bests of the day

Word: Persnickitty (as in, 'stop being that, just share the chocolate cake with all of us')
Quote: 'you know it means the most to me, since my dream in life is to go fast.'
Color: yellow (as in, inside layer of a jacket)
Purchase: 2005 VW Golf!
Smell: new car
Activity: climbing a rickety tree onto a sharply angled roof to swing into a makeshift skylight. (lost the house key)

sunday afternoon cartwheeling

sunday afternoon cartwheeling
Originally uploaded by heidstar17.

too bad I put the camera away for the topless water fight ensuing immediately after the big-red-ball birthing celebration.

sexual healing

My ipod's random play is fucking with my head.
Bjork's 'you can't handle love,' followed by the Lord of the Rings 'escape through the fjord' followed by (yeah!) 'sexual healing' by Marvin Gaye.
that last song makes me feel like I'm lolling in the back-seat of a souped-up Honda double-fisting a wine cooler and a 40, but still with enough mobility to, y'know...git it on...
ah, high school memories.

My idea of heaven is being god

lately I think...we did not create ourselves, so we are indebted to humanity; to, through realizing our own goodness, give back to the best of our ability. This - finding and knowing the god within and sharing it - is happiness.

the guy that got me thinking was aldous huxley in brave new world:

'we are not our own any more than what we possess is our own. we did not make ourselves, we cannot be supreme over ourselves. we are not our own masters. we are god's property. is it not our happiness thus to view the matter? is it any happiness or any comfort, to consider that we are our own? it may be thought so by the young and prosperous. these may think it is a great thing to have everything, as they suppose, their own way - to depend on no one - to have to think of nothing out of sight, to be without irksomeness of continual acknowledgment, continual prayer, continual reference of what they do to the will of another. but as time goes on, they, as all men, will find that independence was not made for man - that it is an unnatural state - will do for a while, but will not carry us on safely to the end."

thanks hux, for throwing a baseball through my current smeary fuck-the-world window. ah well, didn't really need any glass blocking me from the breezy view, anyway.

motion sickness

We were spinning along full-steam in a little roller-coaster car on the edge of cliffs, laughing and squealing and enjoying every minute of our precarious position. And then he, the abruptly untrustworthy driver, suddenly slammed the brakes on with a deafening screech and the repulsive smell of burning rubber. He stopped the car so fast, in fact, that I flew out the window and landed face-down, flattened on the gravel. And when he offered me a demoted backseat in which to lie and heal my wounds, I turned my back and limped off, preferring to reach the original destination alone. I found a trail that cut through the mountain instead of around, and finally came to the open sea. I stood on the dim, hazy shore and let the salty droplets mix with my tears and blood and sting my wounds with healing. Alone. Again.