jump that birthday bridge

last night i looked down at my guitar pick and realized it has a baby turtle on it.

unreasonably stoked about this, right?

but i am reasonably, justifiably, ineffably stoked for sure, about my up and coming birthday catness. i get to spend it just the way i (always) want: getting shitfaced on hot toddies with my bestest, making gourmet vegan seasonal cuisine. my brother is coming up, in his girlfriend's car, hopefully with a bottle of something shitty red.

then on friday i'm off to orange county for a few much needed days with my dad, the beach, and as much coffee as myself and miss alex can tolerate drinking.

and as much bourbon as myself and corey hinote can tolerate drinking (unspecified, fearful amount).

i am so excite like japanese girl at weezer show!

equal libriums

nate went out like a light and i wish i had been there. boring falling asleep by yourself. now i feel lonely. i like to be the brat who passes out first. now it seems like as good a time as any to curl up in bed with a book i've already read and focus on not puking. i thought i was feeling better, so i went running around the reservoir. immediately upon my return i felt an overwhelming wave of nausea overtake me. pretty much sourceless. maybe i overcaffeinated. easier to do these days than ever. tomorrow i'm having sushi with my mom. i dyed my hair, plucked my eyebrows, and painted my nails. i don't like looking like shit when i haven't seen my mom in a while. i feel it's incumbent upon me to make an effort. kind of in the way you clean your house when company comes over (you, not me). the only time my house is clean is when no one is there but me. my house seems to get dirty easily. it's a good idea for me to continue living in white interiors i guess. the dirt shows up faster, you have to clean it. i have been in a weirdly obsessive, off-kilter mood since i got up this morning. i am fully committed to not feeling like this tomorrow, when i wake up. if i ever go to sleep.

me = science factory!

trying to avoid the inevitable:




yesterday i had my first coffee in like, 10 days, and it spazzed me out royal. that was not the part that bothered me. i felt alert and on crack and able to do my job with lightning force and precision.

the thing that bothered me about it, was the anaphylactic flush that crept across my skin within minutes of consuming the beverage i purchased from Fix. serioulsy within moments of imbibing my caffeine infusion, my entire decollette was red and itchy and swollen, and i was sneezing and coughing like a hypo kid in daycare.

i'm kind of wondering what it was. i want to say it wasn't the caffeine, but i know i'm wrong.

the sick part is, i'm about to get some more.

sally and anneke, don't pick on me. we all have our vices. and until i can have all my preferred vices (guac, chips, nate styles) on lockdown, i will have to amuse myself and pass the time by cataloguing and categorizing my various allergic reactions.

because i AM the hypo kid in daycare.

if by "daycare" you mean "office" and by "office" you mean "shit i was up wayyy tooo late on the phone until i was basically hallucinating last night and narrating the details of my consciousness overspilling into a conversation about something completely unrelated" then yes. it has been one big, long day. a big long day which never ceases to afford me opportunities to consider outerwear options for denver:



is cute, no?

and boot options, forever:



even though patrick says he's got a lot of slutboots for me in his car. probably the most entertaining conversation i had all day yesterday. but i could use some nonslut boots, right?

i will interpret your silence as a nod to my awesome and unfuckwithable logics.

(shut up).

when does the meteors start?

i'm sad and i want a junk food sort of snack. kind of too sleepy to leave my house on that kind of errand, though. better when you have a buddy, for these things.

when the meteors start, i'm going to put on an extra hoodie and go sit on my steps. for a while, there was a pile of cigarette butts and ash there, and an empty monster can. those aren't there anymore.

i'm going to wish i was smoking a clove cigarette but i won't be. i'm pretending to be poison free for about another 8 days. i know it's not a lot, but it is something.

tonight i played the piano for a good long time. it's hard again, trying to get my hands to do what they used to do just naturally. i feel about 8 years old. or 8 days old. hard to tell which. hard, too, because it's so cold in my house. my hands don't really want to move, not fast up and down, up and down the keys.

apparently my heater doesn't work. i hope the meteors work. i'm told they are going to be spectacular, and that we are only going to see them once in our lifetime. unless you live for about ten thousand years, and then you might see them twice, in your lifetime.

if i'm so evil, why are you satisfied?

i survived my juice fast yesterday. i got a little delirious after getting out of a ginger detox bath, and i had to lay down in a dark room for a while and watch the colors and shapes play around on the insides of my eyelids.

at least i think that my eyes were closed.

i really felt like i was on mushrooms for a tooootally freaky moment. in the sense that my eyes were playing havok with my spatial perception, and i was afraid to go into my bathroom by myself (and who was i gonna go in there with, anyway?)

"bed is safe," is something i think a lot about when i'm on mushrooms. and, apparently, when i'm detoxing.

why is it that doing drugs, and cleansing your tissues, is such a similar goddamn process some times? this is a subject i seem to have inadvertantly been researching intensely for the last 5-7 years.

and to continue to be speaking (unintentionally, i would like to assure you) as a total goddamn hippie: duuuuuuuude, i got some raaaaad incense from this stoner kid who works at Naturewell (you know the one). serioulsy bomb fucking incense. my house smells so good, no matter how hard my cat tries to ruin it.

but i digress.

currrently at work having just devoured a fuji apple and a raw chocolate cashew snack, i am ready to pass out. up wayyy too late being cute on the phone, not so cute? well. it was, though. i am retrospectively enjoying Media by The Faint (kind of the only way), and anxiously awaiting a shipment of sweaty t-shirts, and perfumes.

perfumes manufactured in Santa Clarita, sold in Van Nuys, and shipped from Omaha, Nebraska. ponder-us, right?

did you know that when the band Sparks relocated to England to record Kimono My House, they placed an ad in Melody Maker that said:

"Wanted: Bass Player for Sparks. Must be beard-free and exciting."

i think that shit is fucking fascinating. stuff like that which is detailed above IS the stuff that interests me. if i ever look bored in a conversation, tell me something like that.

i'm in sort of a relaxed and recumbent mood. work is going smoothly (no complaints, no bussers shaking me down for an additional 2 dollars, no smears on my tie, no tie)... and i'm looking forward to a long weekend of recording, dyeing and/or extending my hair, hanging out with lulu and waxing poetic on alexandra's college entrance essay, round two.

if you need to write a college entrance essay, learn about seminal 70s chamberpop bands, dye, extend, or shorten your hair in creative ways, call me. i'm your girl.

all i ask in return is your undying friendship and dedication, a coconut, and possibly a good jerking-off story.

i'll take the latter if all else fails.

blog the world.

fuck i don't even know where to begin. i'm on my third day of no caffeine, and i'm going to try and continue this good behavior until my birthday trip to palm springs with my family. at which point, i anticipate (yes) getting fucked up with my dad, and brother. but until then i will be nothing but good, clean fun.

or good, clean, not-fun.

all the scotch and espresso shots from last week are seeping something fierce into my immediate sensory perception and i FEEL wasted. just retarded. i hope this brain fog goes away soon, or that work stays mild and pleasantly unbusy until i can focus on the doing of tasks, rather than operating in diffuse pms-y consciousness, which is cute if you're watching Fern Gully in bed, not so cute if you're having to be an adult and set up a parking ticket payment itinerary (slaughter for the greater los angeles metropolitan revenue monolith).

it was weird talking on the phone to my dad. he and joan are sick, and i haven't heard either one of their voices in so long, and certainly, so much experience has been compressed into the short period of time it's been since we actually had a conversation, i felt like i could barely convey any meaning without sounding glib, or overconfident, or just all scattered.

i hardly have any idea what just happened this week. it's probably going to take me a while to figure it out. i walked up to the top of echo park avenue, there is this grassy hill and a view of the freeway. it kind of reminds me of the spot where me and lulu and torrey threw down blankets and put down a bottle of whiskey underneath a meteor shower at porter one year. i sat there for a very long time, delirious listening to fever ray or something equally abstruse. a sheer curtain of fog brought down all the light from the football fields across the freeway, like a dimmer switch. i just watched and watched, the cars go by on the freeway. i felt depleted and sad but also sourcelessly content. i know i'm probably going to have to be alone like this a lot, to process everything out, the way it's supposed to be.

i guess nothing needs to happen right now? other than like, work and drinking juice and going for long walks and online ordering my birthday treats right? everything can just slow down in the meantime? i don't know what i'm saying. i'm just tired.

no caffeine three days ave mariaaaaaaaaa.