Byrne and Eno Redux

What delight when I read on one of my favorite websites Buzzfeed (www.buzzfeed.com) that David Byrne and Brian Eno have teamed up again! Most fans will remember their '81 album My Life in the Bush of Ghosts. The boys are finishing up their new album Everything That Happens Will Happen Today. That's only part one of the exciting news. Part two is that David Byrne announced he will be touring to promote the album. He will be performing a mix of new stuff, solo, Talking Heads, and Bush of Ghosts songs. Dates are trickling but in the L.A. area there is a show at the Greek Theatre on Oct. 3rd @ 8PM. DB will also be at the Austin City Limits festival Sept. 26th-28th. He will be performing Friday night at 6:30PM. Check out www.everythingthathappens.com to read and see the announcements. David Byrne videotapes himself talking in his David Byrne fashion, then cuts to a plastic rabbit.

On the website, the album will be available for streaming and/or purchase. One song will be available for free and you can sign up to get more info as it comes out.

I just realized today that somebody stole my 3rd hubcap. I still have one. I don't understand why they take them in piecemeal. Fucking idiots.

The Boys I Have Dated (L.A. year 3 + 4)

#10- I met you at a party on a ranch in the mountains of Los Angeles county. You were living with some childhood friends who had moved out here to “create music, man”. You were another conventionally good-looking one- looking a lot like the pop idols of the 70’s. Actually, you look more like a chick. I wasn’t attracted to you. You kept following me around the party and talked about how much you hated everything. I got drunk and you seemed interested, so we made out until we both fell asleep. I slipped out in the morning and I was surprised to get a call from you two days later. We began seeing each other and you had nice hands. It started to dawn on me how crazy you were when you never changed out of the one three piece wool suit you owned and you talked of being the reincarnation of James Joyce. But you were such a good cuddler. I felt safe when I was lying next to you, but it was the only time I liked being around you. You talked about how this town was going to kill you or that your intellect would slowly make you go insane. I threatened to walk and every time you asked me not to go, until one day you told me you “didn’t want a girlfriend, but things didn't have to change!” You couldn’t get over the equitable basket-case you dated a year ago and I wasn’t going to “fix you”, as you so plainly stated. You said you were afraid of having meaningful sex with someone blah blah blah BLAH BLAH! Though I thought you were nuts, you leaving didn't stop me from feeling awful since you were trying to still be my friend. I feel that you and I only pretend to be friends now but I don’t particulary like you as a person and I want to yell that to your face. So I just picked up the phone to do that and instead we talked for an hour about nothing and I felt empty. P.S. Now I actually don't talk to you. P.S.S. I didn't talk to you, then you came back around and for some reason drove me insane. I'm trying to forget you again. P.S.S.S I did forget about you and now you won't talk to me.

#11- You contacted me out of the blue. We went to college together. I don’t recall ever talking to you but you do. You looked like you walked out of a Gap ad so I stayed away. We found out we had a lot in common. You were in the film business as well, but considered yourself an artist. On the second date, as I was getting in my car to leave, you tackled me and we made out in the front seat, our feet dangling out, passerbys wondering what the hell was going on. We saw each other for a month. You seemed really into me and I was indifferent. The sad thing is, I never really felt anything towards you. I looked at you lying next to me and my mind would go blank. You started to pull away like they all do and I am just to damn tired to fight anymore. You and your friends have a ------- ------ ------ ----- and I’ve debated on texting you out of the blue to tell you you’re not -----. P.S. We talk occassionaly and I was able to get you to explain your side of things. Thanks for that.

#12- I had left my career and decided this year was going to be about finding myself. Well, I found myself and didn't really like what I saw. I began working part-time at a retail store. You worked there. I never paid much mind to you. You were really good looking, but a little odd. Like you never knew what to say or how to say it, but always smiled afterwards as if to reconfirm the mess that came out of your mouth. I was quitting the store to go on my big cross-county and Europe trip that never happened. We started trading emails and you seemed more interesting than I thought. We went out, it was fun. Nothing of note. Then the second time, we made-out in the back of your car and that was super fun. Fogged up the windows and all. For a guy who has zero personality, you're pretty sensual. I was proud of myself. I tried to mentally "be there" and for the most part, I was. I thought I had become cold. Getting used to having to feel nothing. The third date we had sex and I was sober and wasn't ready for someone who had the stamina as you. In fact, it scared the shit out of me and I tried not to cry. I was trembling and you were oblivious and your distance made me feel worse. We went out one more time and you were cold, emotionless. I didn't know what to do and it turns out that my reaching out to you pushed you away more. Typical.

There has been a sprinkling of other encounters- the flaccid one-night stand with the rich Long Islander who thinks he’s the shit (I found later he got fired from his job after his girlfriend took a restraining order out against him), the narcissistic hippie who pulled out a magnum 30 minutes into making out, the boy who is not gay but I’m convinced is gay and is just trying to prove to everyone that he’s not gay, and the guy who looked like a 40 year-old David Byrne who I liked but didn’t like me.

So what have I learned from this?

You can’t blame others for your missed connections. You can’t blame L.A., you can’t blame Dad for leaving, and Mom for never getting over him. Quit dating artist types who can’t get it up and that have one or more messed up cultural icons that they model themselves after and you should see some improvement.

Not an Objective Review of X-FILES: I WANT TO BELIEVE

I can't write an objective review of the new X-files movie, I WANT TO BELIEVE. I would have had the same shit-eating grin during the entire movie if David Duchovny starred at the camera and talked about his hemorrhoids for two hours.

All I can say is that watching that movie last night was like revisiting an old friend. An old friend that happily stood over my head, beating the fact that my childhood is over. I watched X-files from the very beginning. I was 10 years old when the first season debuted on Fox and 19 years old when it ended. I watched that show through grade school, junior high, high school, and college. Through the ups and downs I stuck by it. Right now, I'll stick by it again.

I WANT TO BELIEVE has gotten pretty horrible reviews. I was expecting the worst but found that I enjoyed the film. In very short (I'll censor the spoilers though I SO DESPERATELY WANT TO include them), ex-agents Mulder and Scully are brought onto a missing person's case by the FBI. Mulder is a bearded recluse living in the country and Scully is now a doctor at a Catholic hospital. Mulder is reluctant to join the case but will under the condition that Scully join him. The only lead the FBI has is the psychic visions of a pedophile priest. As Mulder gleefully jumps back into a familiar area, Scully retreats into her own concern over a dying child patient. As the movie progresses, Mulder and Scully struggle with their individual demons and part ways. After that, nothing new to X-files- Mulder is up to his old shenanigans and gets into trouble, Skinner appears, Scully saves Mulder, people die, there is some crying, the movie ends.

My question to naysayers, "What did you expect?"
Did you REALLY want to see the black oil shit again? I mean do ANY of us really know what that stuff is even about? Did you really want to see Krychek and Cigarette Smoking Man again? I think those dudes died and came back ten times combined! The alien storyline changed every second of the day. I couldn't keep up with it and I gave up somewhere at the end of season one in terms of understanding it.

I think the problem that people are having with this movie is that it's not the X-files we were all used to. Time has gone by. Mulder and Scully are in different places in their lives....GOD DAMNIT...I'm tired of skirting around it, Mulder and Scully live together, ok? They act like an old married couple but yet still have this weird space between them.
Does it take awhile to digest the fact that they sleep in the same bed? Hell yes. Did it make me super tingly inside? Hell yes. It was intriguing to see these people in a whole new light. Their interaction with each other is almost heartbreaking, understand what they've gone through the past 15 years together (battling various diseases, both dying and coming back, having a child and giving it up). Also, Gillian Anderson is just amazing. AMAZING! I almost came out of the closet last night. She is breathe-takingly beautiful and tragic as the now deeply complex Scully.

In terms of the "X-file" part of the story, well, yeah...it wasn't anything amazing, but it kept me guessing and Billy Connolly did a decent job as the disgraced priest. The story had nothing to do with the familiar aliens and monsters and dealt more with religion and current events. Most reviewers say that the movie is much like an episode of "Law & Order". They're kind of right.

My point? I don't know, ok!?!?!?! I warned you from he beginning I can't be objective! I have a history with this show and that will never change. I still have my make-shift Scully FBI badge I made when I was 11, ok!? Jeez! Just go see the freakin' movie!!

Lolita

My diet is becoming one slice of pizza every day from the The Pizza House with the blue tarp next door.
When the nice middle-aged Armenian man came up to the window tonight, my heart hiccuped. He reminded me of actor James Mason and for some reason I found that sexy. I happen to be reading Lolita right now as well and I'm trying to understand the psychological undertone of why I'd find someone who looks Humbert Humbert attractive. In actuality I find him repulsive. Not the Armenian man, but the character.


I was at The Pig again today. I noticed a man drink his drink in a caveman-like manner. It appeared that he was going to eat the glass he was drinking from. Once he finished eating his cup, he decided to stare at my crotch for about 45 minutes. I moved and put my crotch underneath a table, but that didn't stop him from starring. As I left, I walked up to him, he smiled, I leaned down to him and said, "Stop staring at me." His smile quickly faded and he got up and stormed past me out the door. I waited a beat or two for him to clear and my nerves to calm. I walked to my car and a sweet patron followed me out to make sure I was ok. He had a hell of a name that I can remember for the life of me. It was spelled something like Tsetiong or something like that. Nice guy. I told him he should come to a friend's show at UCB Theatre on Wednesday.

The Boys I Have Dated (L.A.- year 2)

#7- What a sweet, dear man you were….and horribly desperate. I wasn’t ready to date anyone yet because of #6 but that didn’t matter, you freaked me out hardcore. You were kind and generous, but from El Paso, Republican, and 33. After a week of knowing you, I heard through the grapevine you were calling me your girlfriend and “the one”. You’d get mad if I didn’t call you every day and I was doing everything to you that I hated about what men did to me. I think you were ready to settle down and I definitely wasn’t the one. You were also more effeminate than me. You loved your “mani’s and pedi’s!” Sometimes when I hear a stupid John Mayer song, you pop into my head (which is another reason why we wouldn’t have worked out).

#8- I met you after my New Year’s resolution to respect myself more (and to stop hooking up with guys with no direction who may or may not have girlfriends). After poo pooing the hell out of it, I tried online dating after I realized how many cute young guys were on there. Your picture caught my eye. You had glasses and you looked liked a hipster (though I’m sure you’d hate being called that- according to your profile, you consider yourself a “non-dirty hippie”). Upon meeting you, I was disappointed in how short you were, but you were fun and interesting. You were a photographer and an activist and a vegan. Three dates in, we got together and I woke up in your Eastern decorated photography studio/loft thinking I could get used to this. You were closing on a house in East L.A. and started stressing out. You wouldn’t let me get close. We enjoyed a few months of hanging in your new 5 bedroom Victorian house, going to the David Lynch-esque 1920’s bowling alley behind your house, and eating vegan dessert off of each others bodies (maybe pretending to enjoy that). I finally heard the standard, “I don’t want a girlfriend right now” and we parted ways. I don’t really miss having to go to vegan restaurants with you. You also sucked in the sack (maybe you were self-conscious about having a small ----). Look, it’s not a race. You had the sensuality of a goat. Maybe it’s from not getting enough meat.

#9- You stopped me at a Subway in Koreatown. You said my smile made you need to talk to me. You gave me your card and SURPRISE! you were an actor. You were beautiful. 100% conventionally good looking. You weren’t my type but I didn’t mind the idea of having you as arm candy. Soon after I discovered how stupid you were. We went out on my birthday but I didn’t tell you it was my birthday. I didn’t want anyone to know. We had a good time in Downtown, but I was more interested in listening to the new Arcade Fire album that was playing on the loud speakers than talking to you. We had sex that evening and my only thought during it was, “you have to be kidding me”. You were obnoxiously loud and fast I was slightly embarrassed for you. You were very sweet to me but I no longer trusted any man. Finally one day, right in the middle of sex, you accused me of faking it. Maybe I was, but that was no excuse to banish me to my own couch. That was it. The last thing you said to me as you walked out the door was, “What’s the difference between a PC and a Mac and can you get on the internet with a Mac?” I wasn’t too sad to see you go. I think you’re dating a teenager now which is good. Someone more on the same intellectual wavelength as you.

Bourgeoisie

I'm sitting in Bourgeois Pig right now and I feel slightly whelmed.
There are so many of "them" in here.
You know whom I'm talking about.
The Hollywood Bourgeoisie. The wanna-be's, the dreamers, the beauties, the comedians, the movers and shakers- all trying to make it in this town. They have an air of narcissism, of fake confidence and security. We float in and out of this cafe hoping that someone will see us. An agent or maybe a potential lover. It's the location where we hope our piece of the puzzle will lock perfectly into someone else's. We stick our piece out there hoping it will arouse another, and it when it doesn't, we go home, another day done- another day in standstill.

The Boys I Have Dated (L.A.- Year 1)

#4- I’m contractually obligated not to talk about you.

#5- I met you on the set of my company’s crappy indie movie. We were both extras in a dance scene. You were beautiful. Just my type. You were tall and lanky with dark hair and blue eyes. It had been so long since I met someone I felt instant attraction before. Actually, you might have been the first and only person I’ve felt instant attraction for. We danced the night away and as we were parting ways, I casually mentioned how cute you were and that we should grab a drink sometime. That was the first time I ever said anything like that, but I was a big city girl now, and big city girls make the first move, right? We met for coffee at the bookstore you worked at. You occasionally mentioned your girlfriend of many years, but that didn’t stop us from making out later in the week. The beginning of a sad, selfish behavior I would revisit with other relationships. Soon after reaching third base, you vanished, just as quickly as you came into my life. You would appear out of the blue months later and this would continue for another three years. We would get together, have amazing conversations, you’d have troubling keeping it up, then you’d disappear. Your very religious girlfriend finally dumped your ass awhile back, but you still won’t date me. It’s ok. You’re still my type, but the whole shaving your pubes, liking Julie Andrews, and the trouble with fidelity thing makes me a little leery. I saw you last night, and you’re still as cute as ever, and I put my hand down your pants void of any emotion.

#6- You were a friend. We met on a show- I was the subject and you were the cameraman. I assume like most people who are forced to shoot someone for 20 hours a day every day for a month, you were strangely interested in me. You were absolutely not my type. You had blonde hair and you surfed. You tried telling me that Gene Wilder was dead and I was turned off by the pure insanity of that statement. You invited me to your birthday party where you drunkenly left your boots and nunchucks in my car- and that was it. The sheer manliness of your thick leather boots and nunchucks turned me on. You were like a cowboy. A cowboy trained in the martial arts. We spent one amazing evening walking the misty shores of Venice Beach and like out of a movie, we both turned to each other and said this night could not be anymore perfect. We shared a wonderful couple of months together before you started to swiftly pull away. You had just broken up with your girlfriend of ten years who you had tucked away back in Iowa and said you didn’t want to date anyone right now (though I discovered you were dating another girl as well). I spent many a drunken night calling you trying to convince you otherwise. Our last encounter involved me drinking from a flask on the Venice Beach boardwalk at night, passing out with the sea homeless who sleep there, and you searching for me amongst the wooly lumps in the sand. You broke my heart. I was still reeling from the mess #4 caused and I pushed you further away with my frantic fall from security.... *Update- I'm friends with you again and I had to delete quite possibly some of the cruelest shit I've ever written about anyone after that last sentence. Man, I'm a bitch.

And You May Ask Yourself...?

I had a really sweet dream about David Byrne last night.
I had forgotten about it until I listened to Eno & Byrne's "My Life in the Bush of Ghosts" earlier today. The first song, "America is Waiting" triggered my memory of the dream and I fell into a soft, fuzzy place. I don't remember the exact details, but there was something about chest hair and singing on stage with him. Whatever happened, it was good because thinking about it now makes me happy.

Since I was 16 I've had a huge crush on David Byrne.
And you may ask yourself, "Why?"
And I'll just tell you to watch STOP MAKING SENSE.
He's probably one of the coolest people that ever walked the planet Earth. Though some of his work is pretentious, he was the one of the forerunners of pretentiousness, so it doesn't seem as silly as these pseudo-artist buffoons nowadays. He had an interest for the abstract, the irreverent, and he was one of few in the past 30 years crafting his art around it. The lyrcis about inanimate objects, the evangelical glasses, the seizure-like dance moves, the lazy vibratto-these new artists should be thanking their lucky stars for David Byrne. Not only that, he made geeky sexy. Since the demise of Talking Heads, he's reinvented himself as the classy, statesman of rock constantly creating new and interesting music and art. Recently he unveiled his project "Playing the Building" at the Battery Maritime Building in New York City. This large vacant building was turned into a muscial instrument by connecting striking devices to the pipes, beams, and pilars. For more info check out David's website www.davidbyrne.com.

Now it's time to turn on some Talking Heads and go back to my warm, fuzzy place.

Same as it ever was, same as it ever was, same as it ever was, same as it ever was...

Sweet Blood

I have seven bug bites on my body.
It's L.A. and as far as I knew, there were no bugs here.
I'm curious as to find out what bit me. They're reminiscent of the bites I got living in purgatory in downtown. They start out small and not itchy. Then after two days they balloon to the size of a dime and itch like hell.
Someone told me I must have sweet blood.
Phew- that explains the 105 mosquitos bites (you think I'm kidding?) that I got once while sitting the bench at a soccer game once (I hated that fucking coach and if I saw her today I'd tell her that).
So, I have sweet blood, eh?
What the hell does that mean?
Does it have something to do with my PH Balance?
If it does, that might explain the 16 cavities I have.
If my blood is sweet, does that mean vampires would be more prone to go after me?

The Boys I Have Dated (Pre-L.A.)

This is part of an on-going journal I've kept in honor of a famous Craigslist posting entitled, "The Girls I've Dated". It's long and I'm going to break it up into sections. I'll probably piss some people off, so I'm going to do a little censoring.

“You’re not my type! I’m sorry, but I don’t like good-looking, motivated, hard-working men. The last guy I dated didn’t have a car and lived in a cabin- in Los Angeles.”

As those words left my mouth and sat upon the ears of a sweet boy who has been desperately courting me for the past few months, it finally dawned on me why I’ve had such horrible experience dating.

#1- You were my first love. 2nd grade. You were brilliant then. I loved your glasses and your intellect. I still love boys with glasses. I desperately wanted you to kiss me, but you never would (seems to be a trend). I would try to coax you by drawing diagrams of you and I kissing. You sent me cards and gifts and every night I would read your cards and kiss them good night. Our unconsummated love affair ended in 4th grade. You are an archaeologist now like you always wanted to be. You're still brilliant and you're living with your girlfriend now in Philadelphia, I think. I saw you this summer after your dear father died. It hit me like a ton of bricks. Our childhood is gone.

#2- I'm sorry. My mother was scared that the divorce f'ed me up so she pushed me upon you. We were in tenth grade. All you wanted was to be loved. But then, you so desperately needed love and attention from everyone. I wasn't interested in you. You'd try to hold my hand and I would tense up and wanted to run away. Because of this, Mom thought I was maybe a lesbian. You kissed me and I thought it was slimy. If I ever thought someone from our class would bring a --- into a public area, I thought it would be you. You were intense. Since you are an actor, you over-dramatize everything and hated that I'm the one chick you couldn't charm the pants off of. You had no problem with girls but problems with -------. That's because you need to somehow justify your existence. Love yourself more. P.S. Ok, that was a little harsh. I'm sorry. I was going to lay into the whole Eastern philosophy thing you recently got into too, but I won't. I'm not sure where I was when I wrote that. You're getting married in a few weeks and I'm super happy for you. It looks like you've found your way. Congrats.

#3- My first and last long-term boyfriend. You were my best friend in high school but I had no interest in you. I was scared. Mom didn't teach me how to be around boys. We would hold hands and cuddle and the young, virgin itch of that was enthralling. I remember we were listening to "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic" by The Police in my living room after school one day and you told me that you loved me. I told you I didn't feel the same way and you left, wandered around the neighborhood for hours. I still think about that night. You walking around the neighborhood. Finally you kissed me at a sleepover in my basement after The Cotillion and I was hooked. I painted your name on my fingernails. We were each other's first sexual experiences and it was thrilling. Not because we had any idea of what we were doing. The exhilaration was short-lived but the love stayed. You are a good man but I couldn't understand that I lost interest in you sexually and it caused major problems. You were ------------- and that caused some ------- issues as well. We stayed together for 3 ½ years all the way through college. When I moved to L.A. I wanted you to come out with me, but you never would (thank the Lord). You broke up with me after a month of living in L.A. I was sad but strangely got over you quickly (that would be because of the next person). Also, it was time. You are married now to the girl you broke up with me for (though you told me initially you needed to be alone for awhile). I am so happy for you. You want a wife and kids. That's not me. Your wife won't let you talk to me. With you, maturity was never a strong point. You'll never grow up. You will forever be tormented knowing your potential and dreams and never ever striving towards them. You're living in your parents basement in the Midwest with a baby on the way (I'm thankful it's not me). Are you still a furniture salesman? I'm sorry if I bossed you around and hurt your feelings by obviously losing interest in you ********. That must have hurt.

To be continued...

When I Was a Little Girl, I Wanted to be Dana Scully

Anyone who knew me growing up will recall my obsession with X-files. Yes, it was super annoying.

Well...those days are long gone. Or are they?

With the impending release of the long awaited X-files sequel, "X-files: I Want to Believe", something that I thought was long dead has come to life within me.

With every little news snippet I find myself nearly pissing myself with titillation. However, now that I'm an adult and not the geeky little 10 year-old I was when the show started, I've been able to reflect and analyze some things about the show.

When I was a little girl I was in love with Fox Mulder- and Scully for that matter (that red hair and PHD verbiage!) I also wanted to be Scully. Now, I watch her and realize she was one cold, uptight bitch!!! I'm the last person on Earth to pull the feminist card, but what's the deal Chris Carter? A woman can't be brilliant and have a sense of humor? Scully had a stick so far shoved up her ass I'm surprised she could walk.
And though she was brilliant, she was also oh so dumb. What was up with that blind devotion to Mulder? I mean this guy was nuts (though unconventionally handsome and witty)! Because of his shenanigans her sister gets killed, Scully has 2 (!) babies; one she doesn't even know about that dies, the other their "biological" kid that she has to give up because it may or not be alien. Oh, and she gets cancer! He takes her for granted and she's always there for him. I mean, I looked up to this chick! She sounds lame to me. But that red hair! Well, I guess I would blindly follow a man that was as brooding as Mulder. Also, I imagine the sex was good after waiting 7 (!) years to finally do it. That's another not normal thing. These two were obviously into each other and they were like weird, asexual creatures around each other. Actually, in general! I mean how many sexual partners did they have COMBINED on the show? Like 4 people! In 7 (!) years!

I hope in this movie we'll find a more matured Scully with a sense of humor. A kick ass woman who got tired of Mulder's shit (but of course still loves him and wants to jump in the sack with him). I also hope in this movie there are plenty of reasons for Mulder to take of his shirt and brood.

Imaginary Subway Love Story

That's my favorite book
He says
As I lower my wayfarers to take a look
You sit down in front of me
And say I don't want to be
Another casualty
Of this crazy
Lazy
Generation

Oh, you're one of them
I say
Let me see your
horn-rimmed
social-whimmed
vintage
drippage
bleeding heart

I've seen you before
In a dream
Or maybe more
Like a movie
Starring you and me
and what we could be
Out destiny
Amongst this calamity

You can be my Alvy Singer
I will be your Annie Hall
We will go to dive bars
And analyze ourselves
We'll name our child Circumstance
Just like the people on TV
We'll divorce though never married
And live happily ever after
In our fort underneath the couch.

Review: The Pizza House

I'm sitting in my underwear in my friend's apartment on Fountain.
It's fucking hot in here. I have sweat pouring down my back.
There is a trail of ants marching from the living room in through the kitchen and out the back door. Fascinating. They just blindly follow each other. In a straight line. Bumping into one another. Feeding on whatever scraps they can find.

I just blindly led myself to the nearest scrap I could find called The Pizza House. It's next to a liquor store and has a blue tarp hanging over it.

I hear a lot of former New Yorkers complain how difficult it is to find a good pizza by the slice place in L.A. Well, look no further. The Pizza House has pizza by the slice AND it's good AND it's only 99 cents. I've only tried their pizza and wings, but they have sandwiches, salads, calzones, and pasta on the menu as well. The staff and owners are super nice. I don't believe they deliver.

The Pizza House is located at:
5203 1/2 Fountain Ave.
LA, CA 90029
323-663-4444

As I march myself back into the sweltering apartment, strip back down to my underwear, and feed off of my food, I wonder, "Are we all just a bunch of ants?"

The Magic of Downtown L.A.

I had this dream once that I was Andy Warhol. Not like the cool, Svengali NYC socialite/innovator/icon Andy, but the gay, badly toupeed, shot up Andy. It was really weird.

So I rented a loft in Downtown L.A. to try and feed this dream. I mean I went through the trouble of dying a toupee white and searching for young boys on the street to piss on my paintings, but it didn't work well for me.

I wanted the most industrial, gritty place I could fine. Low and behold my surprise when it didn't look like The W Hotel inside. The loft had fleas. It had rats. I got bites from the fleas on the rats. It had no hot water. It had a kitchen that was abandoned a quarter of the way through completion. It was sticky. I'd wake up with welts on my body from God only knows what. It had a few inches of filth that had accumulated over the years of it being a sweat shop. I was living in post-apocalyptic, BLADE RUNNER type shit. As sexy as it sounds, you don't want your home to be that. Do you know where Boyle Heights is? Yeah, I didn't think so.
The area also had a magic portal in the parking lot where one can leave something and before they turned around, it was gone. For example, one afternoon, I put a wine ice bucket full of water in the middle of the parking lot to quench the thirst of a mangy mutt. Before I reached the door, I looked back onto the horizon of the concrete paradise and the ice bucket was gone. Not the water, the whole thing. The damn dog didn't even get to drink from it!
I was intrigued and wanted to leave more items in the spot to see if they would disappear. However, my articles mean too much to me. I wasn't sure how I would get them back. Interestingly enough, a few weeks later a van also seemed to spontaneously combust there. Or rather spray-painted on then torched.

Moral of the story?
Don't strive to be a 20th Century pop artist in the magical land known as Downtown L.A., it will only get you killed.

The Love of My Life Eats Peanut Brittle (ode to Crispin Glover)

As a wee thing, I had a mad crush on Doc Brown.
I mean, it was BAD.
I used to write my name as "Mrs. Emmett Brown" anywhere I could.
I'm not sure why I had a crush on Doc Brown.
It wasn't Christopher Lloyd that I lusted after.
There was something about that wild white hair and manic eyes.
And that car!
Yep, Doc Brown could get my motor up to 1.21 gigawatts.

But as time went on and puberty set in, my feelings toward Doc changed and my interests started to fall to another.
Someone equally as brilliant and engaging.
However, this person had such a strong jaw line, a beautiful laugh, and amazing part in his hair- George McFly quickly won over my affections.
Why didn't I see it when I was younger!?
At night, while I lied in bed, how I longed to hear the words, "Lauren, you are my den-sity."

That crush leaked over into real life where I made it a life-long mission to see every Crispin Glover movie. I bought his record "The Big Problem Does Not Equal the Solution, The Solution Equals Let It Be" ("I hate you clown!"). I watched his independent movie, WHAT IS IT?, staring actors with Down Syndrome. I even sat through CHARLIE'S ANGELS 1 + 2.

Then came the day where the stars aligned and Crispin and I crossed paths. It was the Sundance Film Festival 2005. I was wandering around one of many silly industry parties when my boss shouted, "There goes your man!" I spun around to see a dark shadow filter into the crowd. WAS IT HIM?!
Without thinking, I followed the shadow to the back of the party. I tapped him on the shoulder and just stared. IT WAS HIM!
There was something Godly about him (or Ungodly- you take your pick). His face, his hair, his body, his demeanor hadn't changed since 1985. It was like he was pickled. I was staring at a beautiful artifact in a mortician's garb.
I said, "Mr Glover, may I take a picture with you?" He leaned in and whispered into my ear, "Yes, Lauren. I've been waiting for you. You are my DES-TINY."
Then we kissed.

Nah.
We didn't.
But check it- look how happy he is to see me!!

Ahh...Mrs. George McFly....

Welcome back, old friend

I forgot I had a blog.
I came across it quite by accident today.

It's nice to see you again, blog!
You used to be in my thoughts, but then you slowly floated away from them.
I hope you've been well.
I've been ok. Going through the typical quarter-life crisis stuff. You know how it is.
Oh, you don't?
You're a blog, you say? You don't go through crises?
Hm.
So, what do you say? Want to start up a little something again?
;)