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.