a fire that's just waiting for fuel

DISCLAIMER: This is a rant. My mind is on overdrive and I've had an insane weekend so it's just verbal defecation all over the paper (screen?). Don't take it so seriously that you start a riot or cry or get upset with me or hate me. It's just a blog. Or do-at this point, I'm thisclose to not really caring.

+++

Sometimes I wonder why the fuck people don't just CHILL out. Things happen, sometimes life gets in the way of...life. Sometimes people get in the way of life and sometimes life and/or people get in the way of work. However it happens, sometimes the shit just hits the proverbial fan (or nearly hits it) and what can you do? You just roll with it.

The older I get and the more I experience, the more indifferent I become about certain things and the quicker I am to say 'fuck it' as a response (not always verbalized, however) to certain situations. I used to stress and really contemplate how specific actions affected others until I realized that in some instances it really DOESN'T matter. Why? Because in certain situations you have to step back and see that were the tables turned, the other party (or parties) wouldn't give a shit what YOUR reaction or feelings were. It is good to consider the way your behavior will affect others...in most situations. But there are plenty of times where you have to put your self-interest and/or survival before that of others.

I've always had an unexplainable but definite assurance within myself that I'd be successful, whatever I chose to do. I've gone through my life trying my best to LIVE it, and though I've made plenty of mistakes, I've also made a helluva lot of great memories and learned a shitload of lessons I wouldn't have otherwise. I've also become much stronger in my convictions about my future. I just know things will work out. If you merely read that sentence, it may appear idealistic or naive-make no mistake--I don't expect things to be handed to me or just come my way with no effort on my part. What it really is is a deep-rooted sense of 'what lies beyond', so to speak. Spiritually, I have a great deal of faith in life and the universe and karma. In so, I also have a lot of faith in my abilities and talents. I know how and where I work best and what my strengths as well as my weaknesses are. So I've never stressed about 'getting a degree' or 'starting a career' or any of that. I don't know...I just know everything'll work out fine. I see life as a ride, and you have to make the most of that ride considering how unpredictable it can be. Why waste time planning and plotting and mapping everything out, only to hit a curve you never could've predicted and crash and have to start all over? As long as you know your options and limits, the trivialities matter little.

But I digress.

I now have very little patience for "The Man" and conformity and regulations. I'm no fool-I know there are times when one has to adhere to certain social or occupational expectations. However, I've never, ever hung my life or my well-being on a job or a career or school. One reason I've been drawn to jobs that are under the table or don't require schedules is because I refuse to let a J-O-B run my life. Why on earth would you waste hours and hours and tears and sweat on something that makes you miserable and sticks it to you every time you look away? I'm not going to ask permission to live my life. I'm not going to apologize for caring more about LIVING and experiencing and grabbing the reins of opportunity when it rides by. I'm an asset to whatever I put 100% into or whatever I commit to regarding occupations. But I'm not naive-I'm just as replaceable as the next guy. There's always someone above you as well as below you. I can give my best and be responsible and reliable and all the little cookie-cutter 'boxes' you want. But if the chance to better myself in some way comes by, I'm not gonna stand there and watch it catch the next person because I'm being guilt-tripped into being a good 'employee'. Guess what? I'll eventually move on and so will you. You'll get the next person to fill my shoes and I'm sure they'll be every bit the model employee you desire. Meanwhile, I'll be out living my fucking life and enjoying the fact that my head isn't stuck up the ass of a company that won't give two shits about me in ten years. Sounds harsh, but it's true. How horribly tragic is it if one of your employees misses a shift? Does life come to a screeching halt? Does your business suddenly hit rock bottom? Is it like in movies, when the silence hits and all movement freezes, and you can hear a pin drop? NO. It's not. It keeps fucking going because it's not that big of a deal. The only reason these managerial guilt trips work on people is because people fear authority and think that Joe Manager was never in their shoes; never a menial employee himself. People tremble and sweat over upsetting 'the boss' when they just need to CHILL the fuck out. It's a god damn JOB, okay? Move on. Get over it. Everyone will be fine if you're not there or if you fucked up in some trivial way. Giving in to hierarchical pressure just perpetuates the cycle of The Man fistfucking all of middle America. Stand up for the things that matter to you. If you get fired over it, hey--let me clue you in on a tiny little fact: there are tons of jobs in this country. Have a little faith in yourself and get a new job. At least you got fired for having balls and sticking to your guns rather than pulling a Milton and retreating to the fucking basement.

rant /over.

Stop chasing shadows; just enjoy the ride

I haven't blogged in awhile because I've:

A. Been surprisingly busy

B. Had nothing witty, relevant, philosophical or interesting to write.

and

C. Haven't had anything terribly exciting or horrible occur since my last post.

I'm working three jobs now, which is equally awesome and exhausting. I work the door at my club on occasion and I do two (soon to be three) days at the tattoo shop as the shop girl. It's all a nice change of pace, though. I like to stay busy, and right now I'll take any fun source of supplemental income that comes my way. I wanted a second job for awhile (dancing five days a week gets boring, believe it or not), but I had the requirements that it be in a creative environment of some sort (music, art, etc.) and that my ink and piercings wouldn't be issues. Obviously both of the new situations are appropriate. Thank god for my pets, though, because if it weren't for them needing me home to spend time and care for them I'd probably never see my apartment. I'd sleep and eat and shit here and that'd be about it. My pets are my family, though, and knowing they depend on me keeps me from working too much and keeps me returning to the solace of my home-the one place I can regroup and re-center myself.

Working at the tattoo shop has many benefits, one of which is the easy access to great artists with time to do work on me. This is proving to be both a curse and a blessing-I'm able to get some pieces changed and/or finished that had been in the works for awhile, but I'm also actually getting the ball rolling on starting new pieces, which just encourages the ink addiction. I guess if it's my only real addiction I'm doing pretty well, though.

Having a piercer on site also means that my ears are now gauged to 2G in the second hole and 4G in the first. I am going to stop at 0 in my second, I swear. Ha ha..I said I'd stop at 4 a few months ago but if you know me at all you know the whole "plan for the future and stay the course" thing doesn't really work for me. I mean, I also said I'd never get any ink on my chest or collarbone and I've got my bee there now (and I'm planning a small script piece probably for the opposite side). What can I say..I take things by the moment. Who's to say I won't get hit by a truck tomorrow? Would I lie on an operating table, gasping my last breaths, thinking about what I wished I'd done? I try my damnedest every day to make sure the answer to that is 'no.'

I'm going to keep this short and simple because at the moment it's merely a status update, and I hate being boring. Plus, I have a glass of wine and a loaded bowl to which I must attend. ;)

xox

new 06.09.09

"pink sky at night"

our lips are dancing to some silent tune

and your fingers light my skin afire

i see the planet of you in the face of the moon

i see no sanctuary in sight from my desire

i've been told my heart is like the breeze-

it shifts and moves in a moment's time

but you-you satisfy some secret need

i'd abandon the breeze if you were mine

at times i don't know if i have rested

we part, and still i taste you on my lips

i do know this: my interest is vested

and now and then i feel my facade slip

ancient walls come crumbling down

my foundation relaxes at your smile

i'll give you me, bare and unbound

for the assurance you'll stay around awhile

i'm used to thinking you're out of my league

and sailing in the oceans of your eyes

now i'm seeing possibilities

seeing my little lonely boat capsize

and you'll explore the wreckage of me with your hands

you'll search my seas for signs of life

tell me you'll lay aside your maps and plans

and take me in, night after night.

© inkedcupcake@gmail.com 2009

the air was smoking and the streets were dry

"i'm not hurting anyone 

i'm just telling my truth 

and if there if there is something wrong 

then maybe there's something wrong with you.."

+++

Ever have those days (or weeks) where you have plenty of thoughts running rampant in your mind, and yet you bring pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) and suddenly everything seems elementary and irrelevant? Yeah, that's where I'm at right now.

There's a lot going on at the moment, and a lot has occurred since my last post. I just don't know where to start or how to start or even IF I should start in some cases.

+++

Sometimes I want to crawl out of my skin and escape myself. I want to be anywhere but where I am, not just physically but emotionally and figuratively. My life is pretty good right now, yet I'm still a little melancholy, and everything is still in shades of grey. 

"In a coffee shop in a city

which is every coffee shop in every city

on a day which is every day.."

I'm trying so hard to get all my emotions and thoughts out on 'paper' and I keep hitting walls. I've been tweeting in lyrics all day because I can't find eloquent enough statements to express what's waging war in my mind. I hear in songs and I see faces in sheet music. My heart pulses to the drums of a favorite song and when my eyes well up with tears, the salt tastes like a tragic ballad on my tongue. 

How can someone feel so happy and so fulfilled and at the same time so empty and monochrome? I'd say it's the nature of things, but everyone is not this way. I find it interesting (coincidental? no..) that two of my favorite musicians both have songs I love with the word 'grey' in them and used in the same context (Ani's "Grey" and DMB's "Grey Street"). 

Maybe I put my stock in the wrong things. I yearn for a kiss or a declaration of infatuation from someone who appears indifferent about my existence. I expect people completely non-spiritual to understand what I mean when I say I feel like my spirit is hazy and flickering. I try to perpetuate the art of an occupation that has long since lost any artistic value.

"i just wish i knew who you were

i wish you'd make yourself known

probably you don't know i'm her

the woman you want to call home.."

+++

So it goes: I light another cigarette, take a swig of wine. I look around the room, watch the candles dance to some melody I've yet to hear. And I want to go to bed and start anew tomorrow as much as I want to stay up and let the sunrise take my breath away.

05.15.09

"gemini/gemini"

he spoke in questions

for which he desired no answers

as i read his skin

traveled the maps of his life

his tongue was hungry

a hunger beyond lust

eyes that studied me, searched

for a window, a wound

unaware that this was new

his energy- electric and afire

until he fixed his gaze on me

the world slowed

through the smoke, the haze

into the mirror and back again

from the glare of the lights

to the glisten of sweat

he was larger than life

but this was not his truth

his eyes spoke in sonnets

of what he never uttered

searched, yearned

for someone to understand

a hunger no mortal thing can sate.

© 2009, inkedcupcake@gmail.com

I have slipped through to the very depths of my soul.

"And if you feel that you can't go on, and your will's sinkin' low

Just believe and you can't go wrong.

In the light you will find the road..you will find the road.."

One of the many things I love about photography is how much it coaxes deep thought of people. One photo can say a thousand things to a thousand different people. And though we can manipulate photos, at the core of a simple photograph is pure truth. A photo of a person? No matter the skill of the subject in portraying a poker face, the eyes never lie. I don't care if you're a ten-years+ successful actor. It is extremely hard to convey a lie in your eyes. One must really commit to the objective of the shot in order to make it believable.

The perfect photo can bring people to tears or inspire side-splitting laughter. A photo can start a revolution or bring calm to troubled social waters. Photos can arouse, disgust, touch, or demand introspection. 

I've always been into art and art-related media, but over the years I've become more aware and almost developed a sixth (seventh?) sense for 'seeing in photos', as a friend once put it. With this, my personal photographs have gotten better and more artistic.

I love showing different aspects of a person, place, or object (noun? ha ha..)-ways to perceive something or someone that aren't traditional or aren't the biased representation. For example, I've been taking photos at work over the past few months of my fellow dancers and bartenders. I've focused on things like hands, jewelry, subconscious habits (folding and unfolding gum wrappers, for example), shoes, cigarettes, etc. Parts of 'the biz' that aren't all glamour and glitter and silicone. Aspects of the industry that reveal that these are human beings with human behaviors, not just fantasy objects in good lighting.

What's funny about my work is that I often end up being out of the series of photos if I'm taking them on a trip with friends or at friends' houses. We went on a trip last week to Jerome, AZ, and I took three photos (out of around 150) that involved me in some way: two were of my shoes and one of my famous mirror shots. Ha. But I don't mind being behind the camera for this type of thing. I'm lucky to be in front of a camera for a few parts of my life so when I can show my perception of my surroundings, it's quite satisfying.

I've also met some amazing creative minds through this interest. A few of the photographers I've been blessed to meet are so interesting and passionate about things that it inspires me to be a better, more life-loving person. I know photographers with very different styles as well, so I'm fortunate to learn about each and why each person loves the style he or she loves. I love learning about the interests of others who are very passionate about what they like. My best friend is a huge (that's actually an understatement, italics and all) DMB fan, and I love constantly learning new things about the band and why she loves them the way she does. She's taught me so much-things I never knew I cared to know-and helped me be a more well-rounded person regarding music. I was never a big DMB fan, but seeing her passion and how certain songs brought tears to her eyes convinced me that I at least needed to expose myself more to them. If something (band, artist, animal, shoes-whatever) moves someone, truly moves them, there is something (however small) for you to learn from it. However different we are from each other, we are still the same species and we are stuck here together. It's intelligent and relevant to learn about things that scare, shock, disgust us or make us uncomfortable-these things teach us to look inward and turn the mirror back at ourselves. They force us to examine our own motivations and belief systems to see where we stand and why.

It's a little amusing how so many of my blog entries begin with a concise topic and what appears to be a well-marked path, and quickly progress into chaos and rambling, culminating in some philosophical mantra regarding a lesson learned or to be learned.

I think it's the pot.

Trouble get behind me now, trouble let me be..

I'm staring at a white screen, trying to formulate a witty or at least intriguing introduction to a grossly overdue blog. 

+++
Oh there's an emptiness inside her 
And she'd do anything to fill it in 
And though it's red blood bleeding from her now 
It's more like cold blue ice in her heart 
She feels like kicking out all the windows 
And setting fire to this life 
She could change everything about her 
Using colors bold and bright 
But all the colors mix together 
To grey 
And it breaks her heart...
(Dave Matthews Band, "Grey Street")
On days like today, when everything comes suddenly crashing in around me, and the pressure around my head from the mask I wear becomes too much to bear, it's hard to transfer anything from mind to 'paper' coherently. Everything I want to say sounds like a whine or a cry for empathy, and everything I end up typing becomes deleted shortly after because it translates completely opposite what I'm actually feeling.

The hardest part about being a former ('recovered'? 'rehabilitated'?) depressive is the knowledge that certain things are now unacceptable. One may feel dragged down into the darkest abyss of sorrow, but the former seemingly rational option of suicide is no longer a viable solution. Any attempts at self-injury, physical or psychological, are suddenly abhorrent. What was a comforting assurance (a knife blade across the skin) is now an embarrassing and irrational coping mechanism you cannot embrace. The rushing kiss of a bottle to the lips becomes an obvious escape from the reality you're just too weak to face. All of the things that used to seem such rapid and successful diversions from your deepest pain are now, being a 'recovered' patient, silly and completely impossible.

Now I can feel myself being grasped and sucked backwards into an endless vortex of emptiness and pain and hopelessness, and yet all I'm able to do is go limp and let myself be taken. I can only give in to my pain and ride out the storm, no matter how much it hurts, because I truly see no other option. What should be a happy achievement-the absence of suicidal or self-detrimental thoughts-gives me a very hollow solace. My tears, once hot, now burn my cheeks. My hands, which once searched for anything sharp within reach, now clench and unclench and claw at my temples, desperate to extract the thoughts that plague my mind. The stomach, in knots, which was once appeased by the quick punch of whiskey to its sides, now turns in on itself, searching for an escape from a nameless torment. 

And the heart....the heart. The heart that slept in silence and chill, safe behind walls that took years to build. The heart that knew so much inexplicable pain that it imploded, and died inside. The heart that felt neither stab of pain nor rush of warmth, that merely hiccuped, if that, in the presence of instability. The heart that rested on still waters, now exposed and vulnerable to the deepest, darkest sorrow..nothing upon which to lean for balance, no chemical or physical injury or liquid courage on which to depend to steer it through the storm. My heart is now forced to accept the brutal hands of growth wringing it out and strangling it in their grasp. They envelop it, gnarled and dry, made of only truth and realism, rubbing it raw when it feels its weakest. 

And this is how 'recovery' goes. One is never truly 'over' depression. You just learn new ways, sane and reasonable ways, to deal with the difficult times. You have to first accept that there will be more difficult times ahead, and just because you've managed to overcome the biggest obstacle (life), you aren't in the clear. The hardest part about not wanting to die anymore? Realizing that now, you have no choice but to live.

+++

And these are the things that flood my mind and cloud my vision on days like today. When I come home, collapse on my bed and stain my bedding with salty tears and remnants of eyeliner. Days when, sitting on my bathroom floor, my head against the cool wall, my cheeks hot and my eyes puffy, I'm forced to accept that this is what I chose. This is life, in all its ambivalent glory and raw honesty. This is the ups and downs, the side to sides, that I chose over the emptiness of death. I chose to crawl, then stand, then traipse, and finally to walk towards a future that involved my presence rather than the absence of me. 

It gets difficult, and I still have a hard time just accepting that sometimes things go badly, but it comes with the territory. In my blood is a certain genetic torment and restlessness, and I must be aware of it and know how to direct it. It is much, much easier to press a gun barrel against your temple or hold a bottle of narcotics in your hand than to step out of the darkness and stare into the mirror. However, once the ripping of your insides and the throbbing of your head subside, and you realize you're fully feeling things, everything becomes much easier with which to deal. It is surviving, and trudging onward, that display courage. The cowardice is not in being afraid to pull the trigger-it's in the belief that the trigger steers your destiny. 

You steer your destiny. 

Dark clouds may hang on me sometimes 

But I'll work it out..

(DMB, "Dancing Nancies")

+++Yes, there's a DMB theme to the lyrics accompanying this blog. The concert's tomorrow. :)

booksmart devil

I know. I've been a blogging slacker.

I've just actually had a quite wonderful few days/week, so I have had neither time to blog or anything poetic and witty to say. 

And wouldn't you rather read an engaging blog than one that just shuffles through the mundane parts of life, however uninteresting they may be? The only way that question (which was rhetorical, BTW) should get a 'no' answer is in the case of photo documenting one's day-which is something I'm actually planning on doing soon. ;)

My camera keeps beckoning to me when I leave every morning. It calls to me to take it out and embarrass myself by taking photos in starbucks and on the road and again at work. I'm going to do it, but just be warned- my life isn't that compelling. I guess in a weird way it could be. Maybe all the things I think are boring are really freaky and I just have no idea how high on the freak scale I am? Hmm. Food for thought.

Tonight's agenda:

+hit up the ol' J-O-B for a drink or two with a girlfriend (no, I can't stay away even after a 5 hour workday. See masochism).

+Pinky Ring at Bar Smith downtown. Score! Good music, good people, good energy. And great fucking weather. The last few times I went it was goddamn cold. And you can't not go on the rooftop. It just doesn't work that way.

That's a jam packed agenda, I know. I'm in high demand. Time to pull out the paparazzi-deflecting sunglasses and purse in which I hide Nicole Richie.

I got my labret done. Not entirely sure why, since I've never been big on facial piercings. I guess I've become more particular about, as well as am running out of, room for my tattoos. I counted my piercings yesterday and realized I have ten. Ten! For someone 'not into piercings' that's a pretty decent number. Huh. Who'd have thought? 

Sorry about the line across it. My Photo Booth gets temperamental sometimes. One of my friends pointed out that my dermals and labret now make a perfect triangle around my throat chakra. Unintentional but beneficial spiritual gain is always accepted.

I also went on an awesome mini-road trip with my best friend up to her hometown. Her dad has all sorts of cool western and kitschy stuff at his house, so I took a few crappy pictures with my phone. This is a neat little donkey... um, thing (?):

I'm also working on a wicked painting for my other dear friend's birthday (um, it was actually the 27th of Feb, so it's a little late. I suck at life). It began with one direction in mind and ended up taking a completely different one (amazing what a little herbal assistance will do) that's more twisted and odd. Which is good. I'll post photos when I finish it.

That's all. I'm tapped out of interesting for today; come back tomorrow.

xo

go ahead, cornelius, you can cry.

Oh gnat-like tiny bugs who fly into my apartment when I leave my patio door open, why do you torment me so? 

Must you perch on my freshly baked brownies? The bunch of bananas on my counter? Is there nothing else in my apartment with which you can satisfy yourself? 

And please, when I'm two inches from my bathroom mirror applying liquid eyeliner, I'd appreciate it if you flew away from my exposed eyeball. Thanks. This is a difficult enough task when under the influence of marijuana. Flying tiny things by one's eyes does not a safe situation make.

+ + +

Now that that's done with.

New fierce heels:

What's that inside? Oh yeah. They're fuckin' UNICORNS, son. 

The jewelry haul..

Yes, it's Bambi on my bracelet. Yes, I will rock it with my head held high. Who doesn't like Bambi??

Ooohh..Fender pic earrings. Yum. It was a battle between these and some heart shaped pics with colored dinos all over 'em. Fender won out, of course. Come on now.

And possibly the best for last..one of my all-time favorite movies ever. Didn't you just wanna be there?? Classic.

I didn't need to get all that shit at Hot Topic, but I did. What do you do.

Oh, and if I never see another Twilight anything again, I'll die happy. What a ludicrous, over-dramatic, sloppily metaphorical piece of poorly executed drivel. And the special effects? Oh.My.God. Words can't even adequately express how 1993-era-made-for-television-sci-fi-movie they are. 

And FYI:

-vampires do NOT sparkle. Wtf.

-here's a good way to remember what 'vegetarian' means: you eat nothing with a face. 'Vegetarian' vampires wouldn't eat animals. They'd eat plants and legumes. Like the rest of us vegetarians. And then they wouldn't really be vampires. Which brings us back to..

-vampires DO NOT SPARKLE. Are they myspace glitter graphics made by fifteen year-olds? No.

-What self-respecting vampire drives a suburban soccer mom's crossover sport utilitywhatever? It's very unimpressive and sad and actually quite humorous to see a 'vampire' screech up to bullies to save the day in.....a volvo? Hmm. Not quite the effect they were going for, I think. Did the big three see through your thinly veiled excuse for a vampire flick and refuse to loan you a muscle car? 

If that's the case, there's hope for America yet.

-enough with the cloaked abstinence metaphors. Everyone gets it. Except the people preaching it, obviously.

-vampires do not sparkle.

-what looks to be premature ejaculation probably is. Don't pretend it's some animalistic craving for the lead female's blood. I see that look and familiar shudder all the time-right before the guys make for the bathroom to clean up. Just like 'Edward' did. Hmmm...

-vampires don't sparkle. 

+ + +

I'm off to cast my best friend's chart and spent some Q time with the pups. Watching Interview With the Vampire, natch.

I leave you with a great comic from explosm.net :

..as well as a pic from La Planete Sauvage (Fantastic Planet), because if you're not high, you'll wanna be while watching this movie..:

Actually, I don't know how anyone can be sober for certain movies, but that's another blog. 

xox

turn to the gates of heaven, to myself be damned

We see things not as they are but as we are.

-John Milton

Paradise Lost

Ahh, Phoenix drivers. Gotta love 'em. Mile and a half of 30 mph for no reason? Sure, we can do that! Driving the speed limit in the left lane? No problem. Going through construction barriers and guides like rats in a maze, searching for cheese that's not really there? Phoenix drivers will take care of that for ya.

I mean, really. Between snowbirds who can't read the street signs (bad vision) to non-US citizens who can't read the street signs (language barrier) to Cali transplants (..'nuff said), it's a wonder anyone gets any actual driving done anywhere in this city.

Anyway. Not to start the entry on a bitchy note, but it's just reason 5,092 why I smoke herb. I'm pretty sure running someone off the highway and dragging him out of his car to beat with my tire iron is probably frowned upon.

On a deeper note..

I feel lately like my life is a big puzzle, and there are all these pieces coming together of which I'm not aware. There is a lot going on currently that I don't quite understand, yet I know without a doubt there is a purpose to it all. I'm meeting and forming relationships (as well s severing ones) with people with whom I'd have never imagined I'd interact. Yet it doesn't feel nonchalant, or peculiar. It feels like everything that's happening and has happened in the last year or two is all interconnected and threaded together in a way that's not yet clear.

Sometimes you just feel things in your bones. Well, I do. I know some of you do, too. It's a sense, an instinct about things, that runs to the marrow. You feel it pulsing through you and electrifying your whole body. These feelings aren't some crazy adrenaline-pumping rush--they're subtle. They're like someone whispering a centuries-old secret to me; it's hushed and almost inaudible but the weight of its importance is immeasurable. I feel- I know- that something amazing and unexpected is going to happen to me or involving my life, and it's going to change me and possibly those around me forever.

It's everywhere-I feel it in the air, on the breeze. The breeze feels like a thousand ghostly fingers running through my hair. The sound of it in the trees sounds as though a million spirits are following my every move. It's not ominous-just ever so present. It's like 'they' know that I know, and they're telling me to stay strong and steadfast, and to follow my instincts. It sounds crazy, and maybe it is a little crazy, but it's one of the truest, most raw experiences I've ever had. I've learned over the years and in retrospect that tuning in to your 'gut' feelings and just tuning in to the world around you is a beautiful and rewarding gift to yourself. There are things and entities we know nothing about, but if we just turn down our own voices and slow our breathing we can become truly aware of the world around us (beyond the physical, tangible world).

That hippie, metaphysical tangent did have a purpose, I promise. I'm not going to start wearing patchouli and stop washing my hair, don't worry.

There are just times when the universe is giving-practically handing-to you knowledge or clues about your future, and if you're shut down and non-receptive it's all for naught. I've been feeling like this for some time now, but only in the last six months or so have I really tuned into it, almost fully. It's like a mother sensing when her child is hurt or in danger-it's that kind of just knowing. It's interesting and exciting, though, because I've always had strong convictions in my abilities and my future. I've known since I was a child that things would be fine-better than fine-no matter how bad they got. And believe me, there were bad times. But I always had this odd knowledge that things would be okay. Even at my darkest times, when I felt like I was drowning in a pitch black, thick pool of melancholy, I somehow knew that it wasn't my time to leave the world. I knew I would be involved in something big-even if it was only big to one other person.

So these feelings lately-they aren't something I shrug off or disregard. Especially when I examine some of the situation, like the people with whom I've been connected recently. Even my best friend came into my life for a very definitive reason, I know. I think about what turns my life would've taken had I stayed with my ex a few years ago, and one of the first and major things that comes to mind is my best friend. It feels as though we were separated at birth, or perhaps sisters in another life. I couldn't imagine existing on this earth without her in my life. And our spiritual connection is uncanny-we've known each other about a year and a half but it feels like we were meant to meet and become friends. It's like the universe was waiting for each of our lives to be at the right time to come together.

I've been using (maybe close to overusing) the term 'electric' to describe myself lately, and it's because any time I think of how my spirit and my body feels that's the first thing that comes to mind. I feel something running through me at all times, making me hyperaware and almost clairvoyant. It's not clairvoyance in the stereotypical way, though-it's subtle and I think it's purposely a little enigmatic. I think the universe is trying to get me to pay attention more. I know things, but I don't know them. I have dreams that I know are telling me very relevant things, but I can't put them together coherently. I meet, approach, and/or am approached by, people who I just know are vital to this part of my life-vital to the puzzle that's being assembled. I can't say why and I can't fully say how, but I examine how bewildered I am about some of my interpersonal connections and I realize it's because they don't make any sense. I'm bewildered because I could've never predicted it and yet it feels like it's been coming all along. I find myself wondering why so-and-so has come into my life, and I into theirs, and I have to stop and step back, and realize that this instance is one for which there is a definite, concrete reason. The opposites-attract or 'different strokes' cliches are all around me. I feel like I put out to the higher powers what I wasn't looking for regarding friends and lovers, and I was sent exactly that. Yet I know there is a greater meaning behind it.

Ugh. I feel like I'm making no sense, but the words are coming out as they're being spoken in my head-I'm just putting it all out there. So maybe it actually doesn't make sense? Ha.

So that's it for now. I had notes and a bunch of other stuff about which to blog, and that stuff was actually compelling, but I'm ever the stoner and can't recall where I wrote the notes and how exactly I planned on threading it all together so sober and/or sane people could read it. I'm sure it'll come to me at an ungodly hour and spew out like a baby unicorn-a bumbling mess birthed from something beautiful but probably inherently nonexistent.

Till then.

xox

OH! Speaking of unicorns... just click it. Trust me.

so i'm back to the velvet underground

Farewell, remorse: all good to me is lost; Evil, be thou my good. 

-John Milton, Paradise Lost  (bk. IV, l. 108)

You know, it's not that I'm unhappy here. It's just that I am inherently stir-crazy. I am a gypsy. I was a born traveler. My father was an army brat born literally on the beaches of the Philippines. He grew up, went to the army, then traveled the world and the US as a musician and jack-of-all-trades during gaps in lucrative musical opportunities. It's no wonder I am how I am- look at him.

I've moved and gone on trips for as far back as I can remember. We were always moving somewhere else, for some other reason. I never had a problem with it though. Of course I was upset like any kid would be, having been moved and severed friendships a few times in a few years. But I knew I had to take it in stride because that's just how things were. 

Funny enough, I'm now a complete contradiction when it comes to moving and forming relationships, and the types of places I seek out. I love being anonymous-love being just another face in the crowd. I loathe small towns with nothing to do for fun (nothing bar or music related, I mean). However, I feel superb on a stage and in front of hundreds or thousands of people, and I actually enjoy having a social 'network'. I just don't care. I love the hustle and bustle of a big city where no one knows your name, but I don't really care if everyone knows my name. It's a preference thing I guess. 

Ugggh. The joys and simultaneous pitfalls of smoking pot-digressing to the point of indifference about one's original intent. Sigh.

I just need to get the hell away for awhile. A weekend, a month, a year, forever. Whatever. Change it up, life! Charge into the china shop and break that shit! 

The most appropriate word for my vibe lately is 'electric,' and that's just how I feel. There are thousands of words more eloquent and surely more engrossing than that one, but it's the one that sticks out. And feeling so electric, I feel like I need to be around energy that matches my own-energy that's at once chaotic and peaceful, vibrating with the night and the pulse of the city then riding low on an El with coffee as the sun rises in front of me. My god, the visuals in my head right now are so vivid. I can smell the grit of the concrete, the diesel in the air. I can feel the haze on my skin and the dewy touch of early morning humidity-the shock of cool air against moist skin. I hear the horns, alarms, shouts, wheels..the hum and clack of iron and steel of trains and the smell of water not far. 

I have a lifelong, torrid affair with the city. But I always love the way I feel the morning after.

xox

dead as dead can be

Between the guy who likes women to use his hand as an ashtray (yes-ash, put out and leave in his palm their cigarettes), and the guy who came in today who spoke hardly a lick of english (this is America, right? just checking.) and would ask a dancer if he could cut a piece of her hair off to take home, I'm convinced strip clubs are like the Humane Society for Crazy Fuckers.

Granted, these are both normal, acceptable fetishes. Neither is strange, especially if you're well-versed in the fetish world. However, the person requesting the act makes a big difference. Ashtray Guy is a normal, nice man with money to blow and a slightly off the wall degradation fetish. Cut-Your-Hair-and-Probably-Make-Lifesize-Sex-Dolls Dude is...not so much. Give him an inch and next thing you know he's skinning the fatties and dancing to Q Lazzarus. 

Let's not forget CYHaPMLSD Dude (hereafter, "CYH Dude") bore an uncanny resemblance to the Mexican in Constantine who discovers the spear of destiny. IE: creepy and most likely possessed. So combine his appearance, his broken (and slurred, I might add) english, his greasy skin (bleeeech) and his women's strands of hair fetish and we have..ta-da! A new Crazy Fucker inductee into our little topless bar refuge. 

Not to digress, but my GOD why don't people teach their dogs to shut the hell up? Newsflash: if your dog barks at everything, he probably won't effectively warn you when there's a real emergency. And he'll annoy the fuck out of your pothead-but-don't-let-that-fool-ya-I'm-a-crazy-bitch neighbor. Just sayin'.

Anyway. It's not all bad at the titty bar. I had a blast today, worked my ass (clothes?) off, and made some cash. The majority of customers in today were fun and good natured. This kind of day makes my job so much easier, and in turn makes the patrons' experience much more pleasant. Who wants to see a bunch of morose, whiny bitches at the strip club? No one. Especially when they aren't all hot. This is not the club where strippers go to die. (That's downtown).

xox

stay with me

"the city is not a concrete jungle, it is a human zoo"

-John Milton, L'Allegro

+ + +

I have to get ready for work soon. I was awakened this morning by the garbage truck outside doing what sounded to be like pounding the dumpster against the pavement repeatedly. I'm sure this isn't what was occurring; regardless, it was irritating and harsh enough to make me blow off the last slap of the snooze button and get my ass out of bed.

Scent is a crazy thing. This morning the smell of a perfume I wore last year almost knocked me down. I wore it while selling dope and dating a complete head case. I loved the perfume, but it's going to be awhile now before I can wear it again without feeling transported to that time and place. I'm very in tune with my spiritual experiences and my emotions-something as simple as a bad experience being linked to a scent has a massive affect on my psyche. At the same time, there are scents that have very positive connotations, and these are the ones I seek out when that's what I'm needing.

Today is Friday at the club at which I work, which means $5 steak day. For a vegetarian, this is also known as "Roadkill Day". You ever smell a plate of steak, mashed potatoes and corn that costs $5? If you have, you understand.

A steak combined with two sides for five dollars is not a high quality steak. The patrons eat them up though, and Fridays are our busiest days. Hence my working on a day that glorifies one of the largest parts of the industry against which I have so much scorn. I'm still human-I still have to survive in this "economy". I depend on Fridays now for the sheer volume, because the rest of the week is so slow I spend more time smoking on the patio than actually working. It's sad when you realize you may get lung cancer from boredom. Who'd have thought?

I work in a gentlemen's club. I should say "strip club," because despite the efforts of our fearless leaders it has become less gentleman-like and more suburban topless club. We are pretty laid back and neighborhood-bar like, but this is almost to our detriment in dire times like these. Our customers are not all high rollers, and though many of them have plenty of money to throw around, unfortunately we get a lot of family men and working class guys. And when an economy problem arises, what are you gonna choose-buying dinner for the fam or blowing your wad (pun intended) on "Candy"? Paying the rent in your now-above-your-means home or making it rain (no need for a worse pun here, it's inherent) on "Destiny"? Exactly.

So I'm off. I could sit here all day and blog about nothing at all, but I won't. This time you're safe.

xox

expecting too much from the wounded?

I can't say that I'm any one thing. I like a lot and dislike many different things, and there are a great number of contradictory aspects of my life. Or seemingly contradictory.

I am an old soul who sometimes still feels like she's a child in a playground. I fall hard, fall fast, lust fully, and rip out at the limbs--unfortunately intensity is a word very near to me.

You may not like what I always have to say, but hopefully it will still captivate you. I've done the blog thing before, but never in as honest and raw a way as I am now. 

This could be a good or bad thing.

xox

welcome.

xox