Saturday, December 30, 2006

Washing



have you ever been in a laundromat for four hours?
i have. here in new orleans.

my favorite city in the world.

should i be complaining about doing one load of laundry over the course of four hours (3.5 of them drying) while sitting in the rain in my favorite city?

i strain for the answer.

one thing i can say, is that everyone i have met in the laundry room in four hours (4 people, three parties) is that they have all been really really nice, friendly people. plus they have all cheered on my drinking wine and my smoking cigarettes in the laundry room, and while i do hope to smoke less and drink less in the future, it has been a gracious respite.

The Ninth Ward of Hell



we drove through slowly, in disbelief and with every block getting worse.

Xs everywhere with the count of the dead on almost every house, and almost as many SPCA messages about dead pets. i feel it coming, the rain onslaught in the sound of the thunder and the approaching storm, as well as the storm in my throat: the tears coming out of my face. we saw a few cars here and there and people working on their houses. new orleans has a new demographic: the mexican and central american man. i told guy, "i don't remember seeing so many latinos in new orleans before." it is now apparent why.

we drive and drive. the further we go, the less cars we see, that are running, and no people. no people. no people. just broken houses left open and abandoned. i think about people who died in the houses, drowning in their lives, in the memories they refused to leave behind. i try not to cry, because i cry so much (half hormone treatment/half me), it gets to guy, but really...this is certainly cry-worthy. we shoot pictures of people's belongings in piles on the street and storage sheds on their sides, lodged in between trees, and handpainted street signs, because they are a definite low-priority replacement. guy and i have been in a fight and are not talking much. i say only, "it's so sad. it's so sad." he agrees.

we drive for a few miles in three directions. it is hideous.

i try not to hate.

2 inches of rain expected...

what a day.

today was our last day with the rental car. guy is taking it back to the airport right now. it's pouring here in nola. when it pours like this in The City, people stand under overhangs and stare in wonder, which is maybe only once a year. our hotel courtyard is so deep in water, that stepping in it covers my entire foot, fortunately clad in snow boots (yeah, snow, mom bought them for me, not sure why). i'm sitting in the laundry room doing laundry that couldn't wait as it reeks so terribly from bio-dad's house. he never stops smoking with all the windows closed and no air flow. p-u. BIG TIME P-U!!!

guy and i visited the Merigny Fourbourg (sp?) district this morning after reading that it's the truly coolest place in town. turns out that is only for nighttime activities. no breakfast to be found. we finally found a place that wasn't a bar and were faced with a menu that we, a left-coaster and a right-coaster, could barely understand. "Hot Shrimp Salad" "Beans and Rice" "Chitlins" etc. i ordered a $10 ham sandwich, guy got the hot shrimp salad which turned out to be iceberg lettuce with fried shrimp on top. turned out to be delicious. my sandwich had REAL ham on it, nothing processed and his tiny shrimp were far more tasty than anything we could dream of on the west coast. total bill: $25 when all we wanted was coffee and a croissant.

a little while ago, he dropped me off at the hotel and took off for the airport. i had a simple plan to grab the laptop, as there is only WIFI in the courtyard adjacent to the laundry room, grab the laundry, grab a bottle of wine and my smokes, but it couldn't have been more complicated. it went something like this:

1. must get laundry detergent. walk two blocks in pouring rain so bad that my pants and raincoat are soaked clear through and soak my clothes underneath as well.
2. run back to hotel with detergent.
3. grab computer, wrapped in three layers of plastic, backpack with wine, a glass, cigarettes.
3. go to laundry room, realize i have not brought the right key for the room and am locked out and have no change for laundry.
4. put laundry in machine and race to front lobby to get new key. front lobby filled with people checking in. takes 15 minutes to get new key and that is with me cutting in front of some people.
5. run back up to room to get in with new key and grab change.
6. run down to laundry room to put in detergent and get laundry rolling.
7. sit down with computer and attempt to pop cork, doesn't work. cork will not come out. hotel employee runs by, i call out to him, he pops it after much much effort. i offer him some as a thank you, he accepts after finding a cup. sweet, little toothless guy who probably stayed here throughout katrina.
8. pour wine, get back on computer, ready myself for a desperately needed cigarette and glass of wine. NOPE! lighter doesn't work, it's soaked.
9. pack up computer in layers of plastic and put inside backpack and run to bar to get matches. no matches there. no one in the bar has extra matches. at this point i'm BEYOND coping. i'm in survival mode.
10. run back up to room, to grab another lighter, new door key doesn't work. i am now resigned to not getting a cigarette.

finally after only 10 minutes in laundry room, nice lady from kentucky arrives to dry her sneakers. she is a smoker and i'm in luck. finally, my simple wine-cigarettes-writing-laundrying idea kicks into full action.

all of this would actually be kinda fun if guy and i hadn't gotten in a fight after seeing the wreckage of the ninth ward which sent two inches of rain flooding out of my face.

Thursday, December 28, 2006

my favorite town, my favorite guy and typical weather, that's all i ask



guy and i are sitting in a beautiful courtyard in new orleans. just the way i like it, it has been raining, it is fairly warm and it is humid. we have taken down two bottles of wine and are packing it up soon.
love to all for their good wishes for our crazy marriage adventure soon to come.
more later, when it's, perhaps, a little less crazy.
xo

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

I said "Yes."



last night, after we arrived in louisiana and had a couple of drinks to calm our fried plane nerves...

guy played a trick on me.

he'd been telling me for weeks, that my christmas gift had to be opened in louisiana and it was made up of many different components. for weeks he would get home late from work saying he had to go pick up a component, check on a component, get a component shipped to our hotel, etc. etc. he even bought me some kick-ass new boots, kd lang would be proud of, to open on christmas eve with my parents at their house in carson city. he played me. he played me good.

so last night, after getting a drink and going back to our room, guy said i had to face the window while he arranged all the components on the bed so i could see them all at once. i told him i'd have to sit, my back was achy, you know...while i faced the window he made a lot of "fiddling" noise, knocking stuff around. i really had no idea what he could put together to make one present, what the theme could be, what this was all about. i'd been trying to figure it out for weeks and had come to no conclusions at all. i even found a clue, i found the words "september birth stone" left in the google search bar on his laptop, but considered receiving jewelry so preposterous, i put the idea out of my head and completely forgot about it.

when he was done fiddling, he told me to stand up first and then turn around. i did so and, sitting at my feet, on his knees, was guy and he was crying and he was holding a box out at me and he said, "will you marry me?" and then he stood up and we held each other, and yes, CRIED AND CRIED and i said yes!! yes! and we held each other for a long time and then there was a knock at the door. i was just shocked. shocked, i can't tell you, i was floored. and guy got the door and it was a man holding champagne glasses and a bottle and some chocolate and strawberries, clearly the "romance package." and we drank champagne and he told me that all of his friends knew, and all of his family, except him mom and even one of my dearest friends, W. knew and then he told me that he had already told my parents. he said he told them that he was going to ask me to marry him and did he have their blessings. he said my mom grabbed him and hugged him and cried and cried, saying yes, yes, and my dad gave him an awkward hug and then backed off and gave him a big "Thumb's Up!!" and that they were very happy and said yes, he has their blessings.

then he asked me to call his mom. i woke her up from her cold maryland slumber. i said, sarah? sarah? your son proposed to me. and she cried and i cried some more and she told me loved me so much and she was so happy.

i feel undeserving. and scared and excited and empowered more than anything. i feel like we have just joined forces to created an unstoppable force. i am filled with hope and excitement for what will most certainly be an outstanding future. i feel we will have a HUGE future. together we are gigantic. is that what kim deal was singing about?

"gigantic gigantic gigantic
a big big love."

Friday, December 22, 2006

Feeding the Louisiana jones




guy and i are about to embark on a little adventure. it's all about my weird family this time.

stop number one is an ugly desert town called carson city in nevada, where my stepdad moved my mom from a beautiful town in the napa valley, so that they could grow old in a very cold climate and remote location that their children would have trouble reaching at christmas. there guy will experience my stepdad at truly his finest. stepdad is always in a good mood on christmas, excercising his seldom seen sense of humor and relaxing for the first time all year. guy will see my mom in the way she really is: sentimental, fun, conscientious, into decorating with poinsettias just like his mom and happier than any other time, because one of her children has come to visit her in the godforsaken land of nevada.

then we'll leave for midstate-louisiana where my bio-dad and my second cousin live. these are the only people who make sense to me besides my grandparents who are dead. bio-dad has been a drunk for 45 years and has lived an exceptionally colorful life. he's on his 18th month of sobriety as of this very minute and is hilarious and entertaining when alcohol is not the dominate liquid in his bloodstream. we are very similar and guy gets to see this, a family member like me. the others (the step-family), while i love them, are not like me. this is huge for bio-dad as he has never, ever, in his entire life, had someone come visit him at christmas. he grew up without a dad, and with a violent mom who considered him a nusciance. bio-dad's brain is about to explode with joy. i too, am really happy about seeing him on christmas for the first time in my entire life.

after that we will travel back down south to new orleans, where we hope to dedicate one day to the katrina effort and three days to partying, shopping, filming, photographing and maybe exploring the bayou in a canoe.

dudes. we are so excited.

i'll be writing from the road as i will have guy's laptop to use. do they have cell service and wifi in midstate louisiana? this is a serious question, and seriously, the answer could be no.

we promise to hang out on the safe side of the levee*, but we cannot promise to stay away from bourbon street.

check you from the road in loozy.
xo


*ok, in new orleans, no one lived on the wrong side of the levee and they died anyway, but in vidalia, where bio-dad lives, people actually build their homes on the river side of the levee. seriously.



ps. my boss is the newest angel in my life. more on that later.

Thursday, December 21, 2006

R.I.P Syd Vicious, the cat



when i picked up syd at the shelter in june of 1995, i didn't know i'd have him until i was almost 36 1/2 years old. like, almost 40.
when i picked up syd, i didn't know we would move three times together and that i would get us out of the ghetto, a place that made us both nervous, and move us into a beautiful apartment with a yard for him to watch birds in.
i didn't know that i would find a way to make a living as an artist one day.
i didn't know that i would find a way to make a living as a writer one day.
i didn't know that i'd get married.
and divorced.
and make two wonderfully-shlocky movies with my friends.
and stay friends with my ex-husband who would cry when my cats died.
i didn't know i would meet guy and have more fun than i ever thought possible, camping in the rain, driving up the coast, going to trader joe's. stupid shit like that. or that syd would make guy, a non-cat person, love a cat.
i had no idea i'd fall in love again.
i didn't know my little sister would get pregnant and marry her long-time boyfriend, a shy man, several years her junior who guy calls "giggles" because he doesn't talk much but giggles a lot.
i never knew i'd become friends with a cincinattian (forgive the spelling) who would reveal syd's masochistic side by slapping his butt over and over and over again much to syd's delight. and then that that friend would get married, move away and have two kids.
when i got syd, i had no idea he would see me through two nervous breakdowns.
i had no idea that syd would ever stop asking for food.
and get skinny when he'd always been such a pig.
i had no idea that syd would stop biting my guests, scaring them. that he would become an old softie and quit being punk rock.
i never could have guessed that he would be so sad after the yeti died, and get sick. and stay sick.

i certainly had no idea that he would die on december 21, 2006.
xoxoxo he's free now.

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Christmas Special #4: the night i danced with Beck



so i danced onstage with beck once.

the show was at the santa cruz convention center (?) which looks like a high school gym (although i had that feeling seeing nirvana on four hits of acid at the oakland coliseum arena, but that's another story).

it was towards the end of the show. i felt a strong tug on my dress by my friend who pointed towards an open doorway on the right of the stage, very near where we were standing (rocking out actually). i looked and saw girls from the audience walking through the door and ending up onstage where beck stood, dancing and singing. i looked at my friend, she gave me a look like "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" i looked at guy. he gave me a "go ahead" sign. i paused: i was wearing little clothing, namely a slip that had previously been underneath my dress. but i had taken the dress off from rocking out so hard and being so hot in the high school gym. i paused...and then went. my thoughts were, "are you fucking kidding? you're not going to go onstage and dance with beck because of what you're wearing?!"

and so i went.

and so i danced.

the thing about dancing is, you can't do it if you're looking at anything. eyes following other people's movements does not make it possible to make one's own movements.

i stared at the audience through supra-hot bright lights. i looked at the other girls,

i looked at beck.

i was onstage at a rock concert, in front of thousands of people. with beck. i was onstage with beck at a rock concert and the lights were really hot and there were thousands of people, and you really can't see them from up there...and it was just so unreal. it was just like...definitely a dream.

so i closed my eyes and danced my stupid dance. my non-dance. my lame dance. whatever. i did it and didn't care.

after that one song at the end of the show, we were sort of encouraged to leave, very gently, but obviously. some girls went up to beck and hugged him or kissed him. i stayed in the back and i felt fine with that.

i've already met beck. i've locked eyes with those baby blues. it was the other girls' turns.

when i got to my new job the next monday, my snotty little coworker asked me what i did that weekend. i said,

um, well, um, i danced onstage with beck.

it got her attention. she really was a little bitch but she made me laugh the next monday when she asked sarcastically, "so, what did you do this weekend? dance onstage with beck?"

i totally laughed.

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

My cat, my valentine



3 pages of instructions, about how to deal with my ailing cat, have been written for housesitting friends who will be here while guy and i are in louisiana, curing my jones.

it was exhausting to write, it's exhausting to read, it is in fact, exhausting to take care of syd. i'm so afraid he's going to come to the end while we're gone, i gave my housesitting angel-friends my death-desires for him in case they can't reach us if something serious happens: valium shot, euthanasia shot, save the ashes.

i need a support group.

syd is so high maintenance right now. annoyance at that conflicts with my deep love for him. he's been my closest pal for 11 years...he's been the perfect cat for me. smart - listens to me and responds like he understands what i'm saying. intuitive - knows when i'm upset and comforts me. quiet - is not a vocal cat, we always communicated fine without sounds, which can be very annoying to me. i'm so sound-sensitive. he's been perfect for me, for the 11 years i've had him of the 16 years of his life.

until now.

now he will do this meowing thing that won't end. it just doesn't end. i'll look him straight in the face and say, "syd. what. what do you want from me." and we stare at each other and his mouth keeps opening and closing opening and closing opening and closing MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW.

it's like he doesn't know why he does it either. it's like neither of us recognizes this situation at all and we're both tired of it.

to deal with this constant meowing, guy puts a tshirt on syd's head, but this doesn't last long. i throw him q-tips, his favorite toy, but that doesn't last long enough either. all morning long, it's "give me q-tips," it's "put me on the counter," it's "i hate this food. i don't feel like eating but i'm starving. give me something else, figure it out," it's, "figure it out figure it out figure it out." it's, "i haven't eaten in days because i'm sick and my brain isn't right..." MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW.

it's "let me in the bathroom." it's, "let me on your lap even while you're wrapping gifts and eating all at the same time."

it's, "help me, i'm dying."

i tell you what: i can't help him, and it's fucked up.

sometimes i wish he was already dead, because i can't take anymore. then i hate myself because i love him so much and when he's gone i don't know how i will deal with that. i'm sure this is common, but i've never felt it before. it's fucked and i'm on my own.

Monday, December 18, 2006

Opened doors of perception



today i corresponded with my best friend in 2nd grade (and a few other scattered years). we have known each other for 29 years. we write a lot. but today we talked about some childhood perspectives. she thought i had her dream-life. she had no idea my mom was very depressed when i was young and that i made breakfast and lunch for myself and my little sisters every day, starting in grammar school. she had no idea i had a stay-in-bed mom. she thought my house was super awesome, that we had cable tv. but we didn't have any kind of tv at all until 1980. she didn't know i got laughed at for not knowing who chachi was in 2nd grade. she thought i had nice clothes growing up. she didn't know i bought them myself because i loved designer and my parents wouldn't buy me designer. she didn't know that i was able to work as a babysitter at a young age, because i was very tall (and thus seemed older), in order to get the designer clothes. i was as tall as my mom at age 9. she also didn't know that i was a thief and i stole a lot of the nice clothes. she certainly didn't know that i didn't stop that habit until the embarrassing age of 27.

i knew her family was poorer than mine, and although we lived in a nice 1970s tract house on the west side of town, my dad didn't work for years and we drank powdered milk for a while. i knew she was embarrassed of her house because she never wanted me to come over, only to come to my house (even though a screaming maniac dad lived there), and she would meet me at the end of her driveway when my mom would pick her up to come over. i knew she didn't have a phone for a long time when we were in grammar school...our moms communicated via passed note between she and i, about whether she could come over and spend the night or not. i did not know that she thought so highly of the hell that i felt i lived in. i did not think anything weird about her, and she did not say today, but i know, that that probably surprised her.

“There are things known and there are things unknown, and in between are the doors of perception” -A.H.

Saturday, December 16, 2006

She must have been drunk, high and confused

i wore my L7 wifebeater to work the other day, tastefully covered up with a nice sweater, and the little L7 logo peeking out the top.

i found out who the rockers at my work are, always nice to know. one guy told me he saw L7 in galveston, tx, where he's from, and "the singer picked up on me. she was really going after me." i told him, "uh, well, she's a lesbian. i don't get it." i asked him, "two of them sing, it wasn't suzi gardner, the straight one?" no, he says, no, it was the leader.

i didn't know what to say. i can't explain it but if it turns out that donita sparks, the raddest, most hardest rockin' woman of all time, turns out to be bi, or god forbid, straight, my whole image of L7 will be a little bit blown. i mean, this woman wrote the line, "got so much clit, i don't need no balls."

Images from my mom's life

i'm making a mobile for my mom for christmas and filling the spots with images from her life. this is the list i came up with. for some reason, i really love it, as far as lists go.

crawdads
antebellum homes
cheerleading
sewing
"hand avenue"
mobile bay
shells
children
marriage
love

Placement Agency Holiday Party: Total Success!



last night i had the best time in a very unlikely place: a placement agency christmas party that had only 8 people in attendance. i met two very interesting women. my agent, who placed me in my copywriting job, was there and she is fun and hilarious. she introduced me to a woman i couldn't help but notice around the building where i work. she looks like Ivanka Trump, only slightly less flawless, and happens to have the best girl-ass i have ever seen in my entire life. she has the ass i dream of having. in my mind i truly thought awful things about her like, she must be such a bitch because she looks like Ivanka and has the most perfect girl-ass of all time. well, she walked in to this stupid-fun agency holiday party and my agent introduced us. turns out, she is really really nice and cool and fun!! oh my god! i am a jerk for being prejudiced against beautiful people.

so, my agent, my coworker who i arrived with, and this new girl, who happens to also be from hungary JUST LIKE Ivanka and Ivana, and ANOTHER very interesting woman who was a guest of an artist represented there...just chatted and laughed for almost two hours!! WHO KNEW. we all made plans to get together and i really think we will. it's just so exciting to meet people who are so interested in life and so easy to talk to and laugh with, people who have something to say, are intelligent and funny and totally lacking pretension.

the second interesting woman i mentioned meeting is writing her dissertation on something environmental. ANYWAY, she said her boyfriend is a graphic designer and is always bored with his jobs. i countered that perhaps that's because as a graphic designer you are always doing what other people want, not what you want, that as a graphic designer you are really just one step away from being a bathroom monkey. she said, "well, i would LOVE to do what someone else wants, it's so much easier than figuring out what YOU want. i've been doing only what i want for AGES and it's very difficult. i say 'give me your dumb job, i'll be happy to do whatever you say!!'" i found that a quite enlightening point of view.

you just never know when you're going to meet people who make you feel more alive or give you new ideas. for me it's usually bored bored bored all the time, most people aren't that cool, or smart, or funny...and then BAM! out of nowhere, i go to an agency placement holiday party and find the people i've been looking for.*

ps. to my single guy friends: beautiful Ivanka girl is married. sorry.


*when i met guy and his friends...well, i won the lottery, folks. guy has amazing friends. as do i. xoxoxo

It's all about health, ok, i believe it now



a 35-yr-old woman who used to work as i writer where i work, died today. they say she had a headache one day and cancer the next. she was married. there are tears everywhere. my boss, who has become my friend, is taking it hard. i went into her office this morning and, even though she was on her cell, i grabbed her hand, put a valium in it, held her hand for a moment and whispered those three important words, "i'm so sorry." she immediately started bawling. it's because she was grateful and felt that relief you feel when someone recognizes that you're hurting and holds your hand or says they're so sorry. i read this in her eyes in a split second and then left the office before i lost my shit too. but i don't talk about that anymore.

my wish for all my loved ones this year, is something i used to think only old people say: your health is the only thing that matters.

here's to your health.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Christmas Special #3: The night i met Jello Biafra



i haven't written much about this, but i "act" in movies my ex-husband writes, directs and produces with his best friend. these movies are based on the classic exploitation flicks of the 60s and 70s. i don't know anything about this stuff, even after being married for five years to a man who talked about it nonstop. it's just not my thing, but i sure do love participating in the guerrilla filmmaking aspect of the whole, creative, $3000 budget moviemaking process. it's a lot of fun.

sunday night, we got our first star. he found out about the movie because of a screening someone recommended he attend due to the fact that it's "like those movies you like" and that it was filmed across the street from his house (in front of mine). he came to the screening and approached my ex as a fan. my ex is a DKs LOVAH. from the GET GO. big time fan. it was a good moment for the ex, that's for certain.

now, there is now a "name" attached to this crazy project. and while it is a name of questionable ethics, (and more) i definitely set aside judgement for the evening and fully enjoyed meeting him and working on a scene with him.

it was last sunday when i walked in the door of the "studio" and my ex introduced me to him and he held out his hand to me and said, "Biafra." he read his lines really well, and was funny in the scene and really pretty great. he plays a mayor of questionable ethics.

"biafra" proceeded to make us laugh after the scene was shot and we were chillin' with a beer. he has a slightly nerdy voice and an insecurity that keeps him constantly talking. he told us a story of trying to burn a flag onstage with al jourgensen of ministry at the crest theatre in sacramento during a gig, once. they couldn't light the thing on fire, because it turned out to be fire-protected somehow, so they threw it into the "pit" of the concert where wild metal heads and punk rockers tore it to shreds. this was right after 9/11, and somehow the authorities found out and slapped Ministry with a $2500 fee for flag damage. he talked about a lot of punk rockers ending up in jail and i said, "and probably just for drugs." but he contradicted me saying, "no, there were murders." the singer for fang strangled his girlfriend. i had forgotten that story, and for good reason i won't go into.

sunday night was another strange moment. like meeting yoko ono and doing whippets with doug irwin, and fighting with kim deal and chatting with bjork and dancing onstage with beck, or having a smoke with john doe, but some of those are other Christmas Specials*, and i'll tell ya about them later.

xo

*i've decided to pull out some rock star stories for christmas. it's a special occasion so why not. i shy away from it because i'm afraid of sounding like an asshole, "oh guess who I MET..." you know what i mean.

Christmas Special #2: Doing whippets with Doug Irwin



doug irwin was an artist who made jerry garcia's guitars for him. one day, back in 1993, when i worked at the legendary Psychedelic Shop, in walked doug irwin. i knew him from pictures, probably from reading High Times or Relix, two classic stoner mags. i said "hello, what beautiful guitars you've made," and introduced myself. he had come in to drop off some custom-made jewelry (of which i have a piece) and buy whippets. i don't remember the conversation, but before i knew it, he was behind the counter and we were inhaling whippets together.

it was another strange moment for me, smalltown girl, new in the big city. another strange moment for me, huge rock fan, unknowingly on the verge of meeting and talking to just about every rock musician who ever meant anything to me. it was a strange moment for me, doing whippets with the man partially responsible for the sound of the grateful dead. it's just one story of a hundred that have made every miserable moment of trying to survive in this city at the poverty level, totally worth it.


ps. it was upsetting when jerry died, and even though he left the guitars to doug, in his will, the other members of the band fought it and ended up with one of them. how could they? how dare they?

Thursday, December 07, 2006

"Black Irish Lovah"

likin' my people. i was told a long time ago by my bio-dad, a storytelling man, that we are black irish, Iberian and Irish. ever since i told him, guy has greatly enjoyed calling me, endearingly i admit, his, "black irish lovah."

what i am is scots-irish (newer spelling...scotch is a drink, not a people, my bio-dad told me a few days ago, however, it is said that while the scots appreciate this sensitivity, they prefer "scotch" used in two ways, "scotch-irish" and "scotch-whiskey"). therefore, i will say the scotch-irish were cool people. they were against slavery and had "independent spirits, adventurous personalities and restless natures...loyalty to kin, mistrust of governmental authority and military readiness*" all of which describes me. especially the restless part, and if military readiness means "ready to fight." then yeah, that's me.

basically what my heritage comes down to is that i'm white white white, as i am also english. i am glad my skin is on the dark side though, Iberian dark, if for no other reason, than it's the opposite of george bush and i tan well.

Crybaby

alright, enough with all the crying. i'm reading through some posts and i mention that i'm crying or i cried in almost every one. WHAT A BORE!! i promise from here on out, to not be such a freakin' crybaby. good god. sorry, people, i didn't realize i talked about it so much.

but first, i might have to tell the story about how good i am at making other people cry.

some other day.

Christmas Special #1: The day I met Yoko Ono Lennon



holy crap, there's a show on NPR right now about the day john lennon died, and although i cry a lot, this is getting bad. i can't stop crying. i really love that man. i love his message of peace. i love his coolness. i love his humor. i love his intelligence. john lennon had balls. he told the truth. and so does yoko.

so, it's the eve of his death and the show has gotten to a point now where people are telling stories of where they were when he died. i remember where i was and i've told that story here.

what i haven't told is the story, of the great privilege i had one freezing san francisco summer day, of meeting and speaking with yoko ono lennon.

it was june 16, 1996 and for reasons that are truly, another story attached to another story to another story, i was backstage at the Tibetan Freedom Concert in Golden Gate Park. actually, i was onstage...or just above the stage on some scaffolding, looking down on the stage, about 12 feet below me. sonic youth were just about to start and i was already holding my breath. thurston had just walked on stage and was plugging stuff in. kim was there in the centerstage, tuning her bass. lee was there on the far side of the stage, steve, as always, was there in the back and the show was about to start, when my friend (D) tugged on my arm. i turned around and came face to face with yoko and a massive man i determined to be her bodyguard. she clearly could not see around me, but had said nothing. through the beginning squeals of thurston's guitar, i said to her, "do you want to stand in front of me?" i was right on the frontlines, with one of the best views in the house. she looked up at me, and eyes wide, she nodded and moved to the side, and i backed up a bit and she stepped in front of me. the bodyguard stayed courteously behind me. i'm sure he could tell i was in awe and was reflecting nothing but total respect for yoko. needless to say, i was completely out of my mind in wonder, excitement and shock. i looked at my friend and she looked at me and we were just...speechless.

right then, just before sonic youth launched into their song, "the diamond sea," thurston said to the crowd of 50,000 people, "This song is for Yoko Ono, whose rock and roll is beautiful." and with that, yoko spun around and looked at me and smiled a huge smile and clapped her hands and said, "ohhh, they are so far out!!!"

and thurston slammed into his guitar and then slid into the gentle beauty that is "the diamond sea" and my mind blew itself way out of my body and out of that park.

i really don't know what else to say. it was just BEYOND. i am still speechless.

News from the lunatic fringe; happy endings



after shopping all day in downtown san francisco for christmas presents on a saturday (thank you valium for making it possible), i was so tired my legs hurt all the way up to my waist and it was way past time to go home.

uh, except when i got there, i was met with an interesting and unexpected scenario. the front door was closed but i could hear guy talking loudly and excitedly on the phone from the inside. i see a bottle of wine, mostly gone, his wallet and some cigarettes sitting on the outside table. i open the door and he's standing there right in the entry way, his blonde hair all crazy on his head and he's wearing my wool jacket, which looks silly-small on him. i look in the house and there is no furniture, no nothing anywhere in the living room and the floor is super shiny black. he had been cleaning and scrubbing and painting three layers of high gloss black floor paint all day. he says to the person on the phone, as i put my bags down on an outside chair, "(J), i gotta go. she just got home." and then, "hey, wait, ok..." and he hands me the phone and i know it's his cousin (J), who is more like his brother, a man i adore. a man of gentle contradictions, a man who is a party animal and a man who survived the gulf war, two things i highly respect. he's fun, and sweet and seems to really like me. when he tells me to keep his "cuz" happy, i get a little nervous. this is not a guy i want to disappoint.

anyway, i get on the phone with cousin (J) and i hear, "lou, honey, i just gotta say you made (N) cry...and i just love you and you're a wonderful wonderful girl..." i say, (J), are you drunk? "nevermind, nevermind, i just want to tell you that you made some people very very happy with your story."

what he was referring to was a story i wrote about that awesome boat ride in the chesapeake bay on the yacht...i don't know if you've read it here. but it was (J) i was with and "(N)" a man who guy describes as a CONSTRUCTION guy from EDGEMERE, like that means something and i don't know what that means but it sounds TOUGH. and i made him cry with my writing?? wow. guy is blown away, so i take his cue.

then i hang up the phone and i tell guy i gotta pee. he says the floor's wet, you can't go inside. so i squat in the yard and pee, i don't care, i just gotta do it. as i'm pulling up my pants, guy is looking at me, he's staring at me and i said, what's wrong with you? and he says, just button your pants. and it seems weird, so i say, are you ok? and he says just button your pants. so i do and when i'm done, he grabs me hard, he pulls me to him and landed on my lips a serious, "i love you i'm so sorry, you rule, that really sucked, it's over now, i love you i love you" kind of kiss. and then we just held each and cried. and our bodies shook against each other as we were crying really hard inside, and we just totally let all that stress and fear and sadness go and just BAWLED.

and that's when we returned to ourselves. our volatile, yet generally happy selves.

next, i pulled my living christmas tree in, a tree i've had in a pot outside for seven years. the living room floor had dried and i was allowed. i strung it with lights and put all my grandmama's ornaments up and it was so sweet and so pretty.



guy listened as i told him and showed him every little thing about every handmade ornament and he looked at every tiny little date written in teeny little grandparent handwriting every time i asked him to.

later...

we slow danced on the shiny black floor in the glow of tiny white lights and a tree-symbol of big love.

Martian talk for the fashion folk



check it out, i just got LAUGHED at for using the word "accoutrements" for an accessories billboard. i used it like this: "all the accoutrements for an amazing now." when i read it, people laughed and laughed!! i so didn't get that people were laughing AT ME, that i kept reading! i didn't realize something was up until my boss walked across the room and stood by me, literally, and said, "STOP laughing!"

so i stopped reading and this is what my audience of 8 people had to say: WHAT DID YOU SAY???!! now, granted 3 of the 8 speak english as a second language, although one of them is the design director and has been in the fashion industry for 20 years!!

these people were laughing because it was as if i had just said "gobblyey eh googy goo jah shagoo goo!" they weren't being mean-spirited, they really had no idea what word had just come out of my mouth. i'm not insulted, because they weren't laughing at me for being stupid. uh, sorry, no. they were laughing at me, without knowing it, for having...what? paid attention?

immediately, two girls apologized. one said, hey lou, i'm sorry, english is my second language, i just don't know that word. another girl said, hey, sorry, i have a terrible vocabulary.

i just stood there, stunned. the head designer sitting next to me said quietly, "i've always liked that word." i told her, "i thought it was common!" she said back, in a near-whisper, "it is."

who are these fashion people who don't know a fashion word? it's totally befuddling, i tell you! UNBELIEVABLE!

Don't say "foodie"

DON'T SAY "FOODIE!"

please, people, stop saying "foodie." jesus christ.