The Theatre: My Hell on Earth

i despise the theatre. there is nothing more horrible than people who take themselves and their (dry-heave) "CRAFT" very seriously, and no one does that better than theatre people. i do apologize to two of my best friends who are theatre people. sorry guys. not you.

on that note, look at this picture of some theatre people. don't they all belong on "Inside the Wanker's Studio?" self-conscious silliness as displayed in this image, is the only thing more nauseating about theatre people than how much they love themselves.

my two friends who are theatre people are funny and cool for real. that's why they're not employed as theatre people. oh except one cool person i know who is in the theatre.

i knew this would be controversial.
xo

Unemployed Part One

I'm a Pepper, wanna be a Pepper too?
i could be really embarrassed right now, but instead i feel RAD.

i'm sitting in a cafe. i'm a girl in a duran duran tshirt from 1984 that i bought at their concert, with babysitting money. i'm using guy's gargantuan apple laptop like all the other mission geeks. i'm not in the mission though. i couldn't wouldn't shouldn't do that.

i didn't wash my hair yet and it's not in a safe-style, like a ponytail, NO. it's just hanging, all bedheaded and kinda wavy, like sleep-waves and i couldn't be happier. if you're not fitting in to one embarrassing cliche, you're fitting in to another.

you'd think i'd be embarrassed to be alternative rocker girl in the almost-mission, but i'm not. i guess some cliches feel more comfortable than others.

to top it off, i'm blogging. NO! NO! i don't do that. i write on The Jones. it's a magazine i invented. you can only read it online. i don't know what blogging is. when i was a teenager i wanted to invent a zine. that's what you did in the 80s. i wanted to call it "The Glass Onion," after the john lennon song. my favorite column in it would have been called "The Smoking Girl," which contained ideas and observations from my little sister. yes, she smoked. but she was also smokin'.

it never happened but i spent a lot of time taking notes.

The 80s
an octogenarian just asked me about the computer. he said, "what size is yours? i'm getting one." i told him and he asked me where i'm from. i said, "here." he said No, where were you born? i told him, Louisiana, mr. jones. he smiled slowly, just a little bit, like i proved some point he had. i wondered if it was about girls on computers in duran duran tshirts and dirty hair. "i'm from HERE" he said, and pointed to the table. i said, REALLY? right here on this table? he chuckled a little and then moved on. very slowly. red sweatshirt, bluetooth, and sneakers.


BITES
i'm supposed to only chew on the left side of my mouth for two weeks. those BASTARDS. i guess i cracked a tooth, maybe from chewing on a pen, no one knows. it's cracked, it's gotta be fixed. i go in yesterday, to the dentist and request a halcyon. i already inquired into some nitrous, but they offered halcyon instead. figuring it probably won't be strong enough for these nerves made of vibrating steel, i take a 5 mg. valium before i go. i'm not supposed to take it, it's for flying next week to hawaii and baltimore in may.

when i arrive they give me a small blue pill cut in two. they tell me to put it under my tongue and let it dissolve. fine. fine. fine. i'll do whatever they say. i've never tried halcyon. i don't know what's going to happen. it's an old drug, not really prescribed anymore. i'm not even sure what category it fits under. yet.

eventually, they say it's time to start and i do feel intensely focused on the tv above my chair, that has Pirates of the Carribean, II playing on it. i couldn't care less about Pirates, but my eyes won't leave the screen. or blink.

after the appointment, the doctor told me i probably don't need halcyon. that i was totally relaxed. i said, That's because of the halcyon. he laughed. apparently i fell asleep briefly.

my efforts to make sure i got high kind of backfired. they want me to go clean next time. DAMMIT!

OH, they tell me as i leave, NO CHEWING ON THE LEFT SIDE OF YOUR MOUTH FOR TWO WEEKS.

all these rules are getting hard to keep track of:
1. no chewing on left side of mouth
2. no bending of left index finger
3. take blue pill every morning
4. really, stop drinking so much and what's with the smoking?

My Darling Clementine

It's time to play, "What's Up With That Asshole?"

1. pt anderson - first of all, who knew he directed parts of Prairie Home Companion? It makes sense that he and altman would be friends, considering PTA is heavily influenced by him, most obvious in the brilliant Magnolia. anyway since Punch-Drunk Love, he got married to maya rudolph, reported friend of the annoying gwyneth paltrow and Donatella Versace-impersonator (SNL), and had a baby. i liked him better with fiona apple. they were so way more tragic. PTA's new movie is, well, read about it here. i don't feel like writing about it since it's got an old-west look and that reminds me of old movies and i don't like old movies. dang. he didn't write it either, this is a set-back. it's based on a novel by someone else. i'm sure it's great anyway. he's never fucked up before. Hard Eight wasn't his fault.

2. L7 - this is one of the saddest disappearing acts in all of rock history. whatever happened to L7?? DON'T DESPAIR! i have excellent news for all shredders. donita sparks, the most awesome woman shredder ever has a new band and video. this means music!!! reminds me of a tidy mix of L7's first record and something from Slap Happy, their last album. beautiful rawk vocals, simple guitar song, a touch of psychedelia: THE BEST!!!

3. quentin tarantino - i can't believe that sofia coppola ever went out with quentin. she is truly the epitome of refined. refined sand. the kind that turns into china after you cook it. and quentin: the king of the video store nerds raised practically homeless, and endlessly intelligent. his new film has just been released and he shares a directing title with Robert Rodriguez. the last time they worked together was on the ghastly, From Dusk 'til Dawn. i'm always a little doubtful of quentin's movies anyway, they sound too campy for me, but then i see them and can easily proclaim them my new absolute favorite. STILL, his newest...i don't know, i don't think i'm gonna like it.


4. mike white - this guy wins for least expected guy to be a prolific hollywood scriptwriter. he's so unassuming, but so genius. the best movie he ever wrote is Chuck and Buck, for sure, but since has written The Good Girl, with jennifer aniston, my 2nd favorite actress, as well as School of Rock and Nacho Libre. he acts too and starred in Chuck and Buck. always an hilarious scene-stealer. he's got three films coming out soon, although i'm most looking forward to Year of the Dog, and not just because i'm year of the dog (1970). oh wait, yeah, it is because i'm year of the dog. nevermind, i'm high.



5. spike jonze - first off, he has a new girlfriend and her name is Drew Barrymore, the most famous serial monogamist of all time. i don't get why this girl consistently dumps what seem to be pretty cool guys, after professing their perfection and genius over and over in interviews. sigh. now she's got spike jonze in her claws. i wonder how long this one will last. guess what? as long as all the other ones, 2 years. as for work, he's been working on a new movie, an adaptation of Where the Wild Things Are, and it's starring Catherine Keener, my third favorite actress, YES. NICE. coincidentally, spike jonze and sofia coppola got married in the same town on the same day that i first got married. the marriages lasted the same amount of time too: 5 years. i tried to get tom waits to perform at my wedding, but sofia got at him first. Which reminds me, a girl at work once asked me who tom waits is, "is he the guy who did Missing You?" WOW. and she's a writer!



6. charlie kaufman - charlie's new movie, Synecdoche, New York is starting production right now. it's his directorial debut and he wrote it. LUCKY US. it's about a theater producer who thinks he's dying and sets out to accomplish something great, like, build a life-size replica of new york inside a warehouse. perfect. reminds me of steven wright joke: "You can't have everything. Where would you put it?" good god, can you imagine poor charlie kaufman directing a movie? he must be a wreck. i love that about him.


7. PJ Harvey - how fitting that she would be number 7. "1-2-3-4-5-6-7, all good children go to heaven." "if the devil is 6, if the devil is 6, if the devil is 6 then god is 7! then god is 7!" - to quote john lennon, and the pixies. so anyway, what's polly up to? seems she has released a live DVD called Please Leave Quietly. this is what i've been needing as proof that she is indeed possibly the very very very best live performer i've ever seen. as my third favorite rock musician ever, that is. as for a new record, i hear she's in the studio. i wonder what it is that has killed her decade-long every-two-year routine. when this new record comes out, it will have been 3 years. yeah, i'm counting. i need my vitamins.

Slammin' Vid

a beautiful song by the youths plays out as a video tribute for CBGBs.

top 5 words and phrases i won't miss after leaving retail world,inc.

1. "let me know if you have any questions"
(everyone puts this at the bottom of their emails. there are a lot of questions here.)

2. "massage the copy."

3. (the personifying of clothing. about a dress:)
"I don't think she's doing so well. Let's make her the hero shot."

4. "here we really want to speak to the range."

and the number one word or phrase i will not miss is:
5. "i'm sensing a disconnect with the polos."

Adult Louisiana

there has been a sudden insurgence of girls wanting to be my friend, lately. i find it odd. maybe because the difference in number of people who want to be friends with Adult Lou is so astoundingly bigger than the number of people who wanted to be friends with Teenage Lou.

In high school i felt that no one wanted to be my friend because i had a pizza pie for a face. i hated my face so much, that, when at home, i would wear a bandanna over it like a bandit from the butch cassidy days. i would fantasize about scraping it with a straight blade.

life is relentless.

Scientists prove and public finally listens to obvious fact that even teenagers have known for years

the matrix of harm

turns out alcohol and tobacco are more harmful than ecstacy and LSD.

this kind of thing (what's legal and what isn't and the lies that entails) is so frustrating to me, i don't know where to begin the hating.

The happiest place of all

ever had anyone tell you to go to your happy place?

the first time i heard that, i was lying on the floor of a psychiatrist's office. it was 1996 and i had just had my first panic attack. i, naturally, thought i was dying or going to die or was for sure insane and might stay that way forever. the shrink told me, "think of your happy place. a place that makes you happier than any other place."

i thought of my grandparents house and immediately started bawling. they weren't even dead yet, but i loved them SO MUCH that the thought of them, and their house where i have always been my happiest, was too much to bear. like how some people describe their love for their children.

since then i've come up with a better happy place. i've found that my happiest place ever...is inside music. music takes me to a place that is perfect. it's in the middle of everything, nothing touches the ground there, and yet i don't float up and up indeterminately either. the wall of sound creates the ultimate womb. all beauty and floaty and lovely and free and smooth all the time. completely separate from everything that sucks in every way.

so then i was thinking, if music is my happy place, and our personal ideas of heaven or hell could very well be where we end up in the afterlife, then after i die, i will go live inside a song.

it will probably be a sonic youth song. or the beginning of devo's "come back jonny."

a lucky girl

this is my living room. isn't it pretty?



and the view from my deck. sutro tower looks like the burning man to me. wouldn't it be cool if the burning man was that big and sitting on top of twin peaks?

The elusive Clementine

she's not so hot on getting photographed. after taking these she was pretty much done with me. she moves fast and often, a nervous sort. this is probably one of the things i sensed and liked about her when we met at the shelter. i always equate nervousness with sensitivity and sensitivity with intelligence.

guy is really trying to understand cats. to learn what the point of them is. i appreciate this greatly. he grew up on a farm with dogs and horses. he doesn't know how to communicate with her, but bless his heart, he tries.

she doesn't live under the bed so much anymore, so i do see signs of socializing happening. she looks almost identical to my syd, who died in december. the other day she was just walking across the living room floor and my brain said, "syd." before it said, "nope. clementine." it freaked me out. i don't know how my face looked, but i said nothing and guy looked at me and said, "did you think she was syd?" seeing her so young and alive makes it easy for me to forget that syd is dead. that he died in my arms, that i felt his body go limp and that he bit me just before he went.

"been gone so long i never came back"

or something. i can't remember how that goes. that's another thing that's gone. my memory. supposedly my ovaries are all dried up like prunes right now from the medicine i had injected into my hip six weeks ago. this medical treatment that lasts three months is a terrible acid trip i have to withstand for six more weeks. right now i'm peaking. it's not as much fun as real peaking, although, you know, maybe peaking never really was fun. always the most intense part of the trip. the moments when you have to hold to your seat or you might get bucked off the ride permanently.

so, i stopped writing about my physical experiences, because, like i mentioned before, i don't want this...whatever...BLOG, uh, stupid name...to become a women's health journal, all crunchy and berkeleyish. i'm terrified of having female epiphanies where i realize i'm a goddess or something. how gross. so, i stopped writing i think because that's all i know right now. all the things going on physically. my brain is filled with a bitchy voice all day long, swearing at buses that are too full and come too seldom, at people who stand in the middle of the sidewalk in a daze, at knobs that don't turn easily enough, at the shower which stinks of bleach, at the food that i burned with lemon, at the food that got old because i didn't eat it in the time allotted, at the stiches in my finger making it difficult to wash my hair, at how dumb it is to be so clumsy as to have to get stitches in a finger that makes it difficult to wash hair, at my increasingly bad back and the doctor who won't make the phone calls to a surgeon for me, seriously what doctor hands a patient a note with a doctor's name scrawled on it and the instruction to call, that the appointment should come pretty soon and then i call and they say it's going to be 8 weeks and i tell them that i can't stand anymore for longer than 2 minutes unless i'm drunk and can't feel the nerve shoots over my hips and down my right leg and their advice is to call another doctor. you know, i guess that sounds reasonable but to me it is ridiculousness of the highest level, it makes me want to tear a house apart with my bare fingers. in fact the anger that is inside me is kind of scary.

it's things like this that have kept me from writing because what do i sound like? a bitch. guess what i feel like? a bitch. these hormones are making it difficult to be normal, they really are, but you know what, i'm just peaking and all peaking ends at some point. it does. i know from the 65 hits of acid i have taken in my lifetime.

too bad this drug doesn't make me laugh like an insane hyena. i always loved that part of LSD. hey, anyone got any? i could really use an insane hyena laugh about now.

xo

ps. sorry to my friend, E. for the gross picture. i know he isn't into gross stuff.