well...

Have you ever looked down into your shopping cart and realized you have nothing that qualifies as a food group?
Friday, after a long shift at the oyster bar, I went to market. I had pretzles, wine and tabloids...everything necessary for my friday night as a recluse...but no real food...I grabbed some chicken just for show.
Since transitioning from student to full-time server to post-grad to full-time server again, I feel like my quality of life has decreased somewhat. Part of it is age, but after dealing with people and all of their passive agressive bs that they agress at me over a plate of substandard casino grub-I just have no patience left over for a personal life.
oh well...

missing the letter after "o"

so here i am. back in TN, to clear my head, in theory.

on one hand, it has made things easier. Those who I love are healthy and thriving. I got to snuggle and run around the backyard with my dogs...Terry is doing wonderful...Mikey made me an amazing meal...I relaxed,I mean really relaxed for the first time in a longtime.on the other hand...it has made things more difficult.Terry wants to reconcile and we have had an amazing few days. He is clean and back to being who he was when we met.but there are still somethings missing. Do I choose friendship over passion? Do I choose to salvage a sexless union with Terry overthe possibility of sex filled one somewhere down the line?Do I let go of something secure because I am feeling insecure?Could I be with someone who is supportive but could never really understand what moves me?Are my feelings motivated by love or by fear?Are all feelings motivated by fear or love?
I just don't know.I think I needed a hug. I came here. I hugged.

Tomorrow night i will be back in Vegas and back to not having what I want and being too frustrated to get it.Vegas has been so difficult. It defies all my expectations. I expected waitresses to be my community and they arent. I expected to get on my feet quickly and I havent. I get so negative sometimes but at the same time I feel like my time in Vegas is crucial. I will learn,grow,learn how to be better to myself.

or atleast that is the objective.

A clown by any other name...

Dear Circus Freak,

"Many and most of the images and media that FOX and News corp creates are destructive to our society, many images provoke and glorify Violence and unhealthy sexual relations. This is eating away at the cohesion of our families, or society, and our way of life."

I have problems with this statement. This could be a quote taken from some Fox news talking head in reference to the so-called "liberal" media. It is also a statement that is incredibly dangerous because your words mirror the words used by Right Wing moralist thugs that want to limit freedom of speech. Freedom of speech is a tenet and expression of a healthy democracy. That means Bill O' Reilly and Jerry Lewis are equals. What matters isn't what they say but the weight we give their words.

The dissolution of the family began long before we had TVs in our homes and computers on our laps. In fact,information and access to information is essential to us being good citizens. For all the whining you hear about the Media, what you are hearing are moans in disgust about the "mainstream" media. Well, there are other outlets for people to get information. In fact, the internet has INCREASED the availability of information to the people. Did you know the internet is used by rescue organizations and human rights groups?The Internet allows previously muted people a voice. It just requires an educated user and so begins the slippery slope.

I am not going to bore you with a discourse on the dumbing down of America. Hell, living in Berkley, I am sure you are constantly bombarded with all kinds of rhetoric. Sure, it would be wonderful if mainstream media outlets gave joe average instant access to truth. But the truth is that we as a people have become lazy and complacent. The draining of funding for public schools has taken the fundamental out of fundamental education. Schools should be a place where thinking is encouraged and the seeds which lead to self cultivation are born.

If you are going to make a statement by deleting myspace-do it. You are free to do so. That doesn't somehow make your hands clean or really prove anything. Friendster and Facebook have all been bought out and are linked to big corporate entities.

While you are at it. Give up your dreams about making film. Even indie companies are linked to larger media houses.

Actually, while we are on the subject, why don't you start making your own clothes and farming your own food.

Come on, babe. I get that even small acts of activism are important. I just found the your email factually inaccurate and irrational.

"People's current diet of sex and violence are at such high levels that they cannot think clearly or make as rational decisions."

This statement is inflammatory and flawed.

You hate TV. I get it,but you are viewing TV as the cause of all the worlds' problems, and not a symptom.You could just as easily argue that women entering the workplace has aided in the destruction of society. You could say that work has shaved down the mothers role as caregiver and stabilizing unit in the home and, in turn, creating a vacuum where TV becomes a surrogate. That would be more supported by facts than what you said.

I don't want you to take this as an assault on you personally. I am more concerned with you, as an educated knowledge seeker, to do just that.

Read.Check your facts. Do you know the history of the "Wall Street Journal"? It was founded by Conservatives Google Bernard Kilgore. Rupert Murdoch isn't going to cause any shake-ups with his buy-out. It has always been a paper of the rich for the rich.

Okay. This was some fun banter. I hope you are well and thinking as freely as you speak(: I look forward to your response.

I was quite surprised by some of your statements. If the clown thing doesn't work out, you could always get a job at Fox news. You got the rhetoric down pat.

-MG

Am I racist or just white?

I think the first time I ever recognized race on any level was when I was about seven. I was in ballet/tap with an Indian Girl. She looked and spoke differently-and her mom didn't dress like my mom.

There was no value judgement involved, if anything there was curiosity.

That was pretty much it until junior high. Well, not entirely. There was this girl who would make fun of me by calling me "nigger lips" because I have a full pucker-but she was such trash, not much of what she said registered.

In Junior High, I was introduced to racial tension. My school 40% white, 40% Latino and a smattering of various Asian populations and a couple of black kids. And it was the first time I felt that my race affected my ability to move in certain social situations.

Cholas hated me and used a special form of psychological warfare that kept me in fear until I went to college. Even now, the word "Gringa" makes me want to put on big rings and get ready to buck.

Then I moved to San Francisco, and I developed a strong distaste for the L-Taraval ladies. I lived in a predominately Asian neighborhood and after crossing 19th avenue, I would be one of the token Caucasians on the train. There was some cultural stuff happening that I just wasn't able to understand. These older Asian women would have pungent pink plastic bags filled with vegetables and fish guts. They would push past me or if i didn't give up my seat, they would set their groceries on my lap. Twittering in Cantonese and often launching their sputum without care. I tried to keep my mind open, tried to talk myself into being non-judgemental but it didn't work. I hated them. I hated their groceries. I hated being an unwelcome guest in their world.

Modesto, 15 years ago, didn't really have a large black population.
So, I had limited contact with Black folk until I moved to Memphis. It was strange. The South just set me back. At first, I blamed whitey for the problems with race relations in the South. I am a middle-class liberal. We are hard wired to blame whitey for everything. After about a year, I realized it wasn't so simple. Both whites and blacks had internalized anger and poverty bred ignorance. It takes two to tango and in Memphis, both sides seem to continue the hate.

And there are Black men.

I have issues with Black men. When it comes to friendship, I am completely comfortable. But dating? If part of why you wanna date me, is my race-that isn't any different than not dating me because of my color.

Sociologically/historically, the appeal of the white girl has to do with subverting power from the Slave master. Black men have been hyper-sexualized in history. During slavery they were seen as savage, sexual animals.It was a way of de-humanizing them,to rank their behavior as carnal and primordial like beasts-so that whitey could in good conscience use them as beasts of burden.The stereotype of the "Black Buck" arose from the fear and racism of that time. So it has been handed down for generations, white men feeling emasculated in the presence of their black counterparts and that fear being propagated by a particular demographic of black men who view white girls as white diamonds. It is crazy, it is like hip-hop embraces the negative stereotype. All the songs about women being hoes, about "fucking a bitch, then fucking her friend" etc. The black man is still the uber-potent sex machine that can't be stopped. From the plantation to the hood-it blows my mind.

I have been thinking about all the stuff alot. There is a guy at work who seems like a perfectly laid back decent guy-and he wants to go catch a movie or something sometime-and I can't take him completely at face value because he is black. Which is crazy! He is talking about having a drink and I am struggling to separate that drink from some linear, ethno-sociological experience.

how about that for a random rant?

and fuck you some more-with feeling

The emails from last night weren't exactly well
thought out or kind and I apologize. I went out and
had drinks with the girls to curse men and the gods
and whoever else would listen. that said-

I just don't get it.

I don't think I ever will.

I am not playing games with you.I just don't
understand what your problem with me is. I feel close
and connected to you and somehow that is a bad
thing.Reaching out is "coming at you aggressively".

I think we had sex because there are still feelings
and not just mine. I think you still care for me and
are uncomfortable with that for whatever reason. I
think of you came to Vegas it would happen again. I
look back on  the times we have seen each other since
we split and it has always been in broad daylight, in
public. Last summer I wanted you to come over to
Christie's for dinner and you declined in favor of
coffee in public. I think you are scared of me Mr.
Murphy,or scared of how I make you feel.

When we saw each other in Indianapolis we practically
finished each others sentences but you found the
exchange awkward. I thought it was comfortable and
exciting.I thought we really clicked.In fact it was
when I got back from Indianapolis that I told my
friends about you for the first time-loving you,
losing you-the whole saga. I said that I thought you
were still scared of me after all this time and that
was a signal of something deeper- in a really twisted
way. Oh, and before I left for Vegas I knew that we
would end up in bed.Some things feel over and some
things are just forced to end.I think we never really
ended, it just wasn't the time for us.

When we both were in Vegas and out with Lynn...it
seemed perfect.Everything was in place...there was us
being us and vibing off each other.
It felt totally natural.When we talk it feels
good.Why is that bad? Why won't you open up?

I love you. so what?

Fuck You Mr. M

Milan Kundera .

It is hot here. really hot. and since vegas for us working stiffs is boring-all people talk about is the heat-and maybe the latest casino implosion or the de-egyptiazation of the Luxor.

and I am losing my mind.

and since I am losing my mind I have taken to do what I do most when I am losing my mind. read milan kundera. oh and usually losing my mind also leads to me a taking an odd-fitting lover-but I am not that motivated these days. Like I said to S last night in a rumple induced moment of clarity-I see things, I rub against them, then I leave town.

6 years ago I went through a sad break-up. It was both a break up with my love and my entire life. I left san francisco-went to europe, had a very hot but very ill fitting love affair and read milan kundera with a zeal that could only be brought on by that kind of loss.

now back in a similar situation I am reading " The Book of Laughter and Forgetting" by my old friend Milan. There is a bit where one of the characters talks about taking men for sex and friendship, but never for love because of its selfishness and hysteria...I think that is so interesting.

we think of love as this selfless, priceless, eternal thing. yet, once you love someone-you feel a sort of ownership of them...you want to protect them and draw them closer...that could be stifling to the other person. Another person's life isn't yours and preventing them from expressing even negative behavior is a prison of sorts.

I am kinda dealing with those themes right now. I recently broke up with my life in Memphis. I am here in Vegas and I am pretty unhappy. I am going through some stuff with the ex from six years ago-because coming to vegas has brought him back into my life in a very intimate way. I confessed to him my feelings and what was on my mind and he saw it all as some tool of manipulation. or weapon against him. which is so far from my intentions...I have been going crazy, my stomach in knots, having trouble sleeping....I have been drinking too much and crying even more...but somehow those feelings that I have been killing myself trying to bury are some kind of assault on him.

and the worst part is that I think his reaction comes from fear. I scare him. He goes out of his way to control himself with me and about me.

Fuck that.

I would rather feel and experience the pain of something or someone then lock everything up in a safe place. I would rather suffer and scream my love off of roof tops, then guard my passions.

so life kinda sucks right now-but atleast I can fucking own up to my actions and feelings and not shrink back and accuse others for making me feel "imbalanced".

got that fuckhole. (even though he isn't able to read this)

Republicans should be sacrificed to lions like the Christians of old

Since 9/11, in a move that I find absolutely ironic all considering, The Right has been gutting the already limited funds to planned parenthood, making contraception more expensive and less available while pumping more money into abstinence education.This is coming from a group of men who don't even know the meaning of monogamy, no less abstinence.

While making sure the health insurance few of have will no longer pay for our birth control pills, our right to reproductive freedom is being assaulted and legislation has been popping up making sex toys contraband.That puts us right on par with, oh...I don't know...The Taleban. Good work, GOP!

Now there is a bill up before congress to fund contraception abroad. Though I have no problem with the bill at its face and the reasoning that there will be less reason for abortion if people have access to birth control sounds okay to me. My issue is why would we fund these programs abroad while not affording American women with same opportunity?

It is pretty simple. We don't care about what good could come from women being educated about sex and contraception. It is about control. It is about cultural imperialism. It is about limiting the growth of unsavory populations. If was about the people there would be a more cohesive plan of attack in Africa, where HIV/AIDS is through the roof and drug companies refuse to allow drug cocktails to be released in a generic form. It is more profitable to keep the drugs scarce while letting people die. I mean, who cares about poor people? And poor black people-invisible. They were born statistics.

Bush has been quoted in saying that limiting abortion protects women and children? Does it? Does limiting sexual education and freedom protect women, especially women with a lower social economic status?

The only way to make an informed decision is access to information. Since 9/11 access to information has been truncated to the point of non-existance. We have no idea what is going on. The last thing I saw on CNN was a bit talking about most journalists are liberal/ give money to liberal causes.

I also found it interesting that we are pumping money to fund democratic intiatives in Cuba, where, regardless of how you feel about communism or Castro, they have a more comprehensive health care program and Cuban literacy rates shame our own.

When was the last time we intervened abroad and actually provided aid-actually HELPED people?

Any thoughts?

I was tagged

Once you have been tagged, you have to write a blog with 10 weird, random things, facts, or habits about yourself. At the end, you choose 10 people to be tagged, list their names, and why you chose them to be tagged. Don't forget to leave a comment that says "you are tagged" on their profile and to read your latest blog. Have fun.

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1. I love to experiment-drugs,gender, sexuality, identity- you name it. In fact, I see life as my own little sociological experiment where I am the (out of) control subject. Some of the experiments have been successful, the less successful ones make great stories.

2. I am a ridiculous vagabond drunk. Over the top silly. I have passed out in an airport in San Francisco, I have passed out while attempting to fellate a friend in an Amsterdamn hotel room.I passed out on a train in Spain and woke up in France. I made out with an indie rock drummer on a street corner in Oakland. I insulted that band "Live" in Memphis. I almost got arrested in Germany on an expired passport with 4 calabrians and a good bit of hash...I could go on for hours.

3. If you put the men I have dated in a line up, you couldn't connect the dots and find any commonality except for me. They have all been very different.A would be priest, a commie, a calabrian farm boy, a drug addled much older man, an aspiring clown...I see fire. I go to the flames. There is no rhyme or reason. I really don't have a type.

4. The White Stripes make my nipples hard. I hear that guitar and I am done.

5. I am a hermit. I really don't associate with anyone on my days off. Working in restaurants forces me to deal with people, lots of people, horrible horrible people everyday. I hear them calling for bread and refills in my sleep. It is hard to get me out of the house when I am not working.

6. When I am not working I am listening to music, watching law and order, and internet stalking. I read blogs and spend hours on myspace. It is pretty sick. It is like having contact with people without having to actual be with them.

7. I masturbate to internet porn.

8.Except for my almost manical love for foot wear, I am not materialistic at all. I left Memphis with what would fit in my pack-and haven't looked back. Any money I have had in the past has been spent on music, wine dinners, travel etc. I kinda want stuff, but I like the freedom not having stuff affords me.

9. I have never had a driver's license. I am scared to death of driving.

10. What I love about living in Italy, besides the cheese, is that Italians are total dorks. You will see some guy who looks like an extra from "Sid and Nancy" rocking out to some lame pop hit. People are more comfortable with themselves overall. They aren't afraid to be completely nerdy.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

I tag:

Tom Foehner- because he was the first man to ever tag me (:

Bonnie Hilton-because she will have fun with this.

Liz Jones- because maybe she will finally clear up her cupcake fascination for me

Nerdia Yadorksky-the name says it all.

Tidy-because he likes to talk about himself

Red-because she is Italian

Spanky-because it would be a good excercise for him

Jennibean-because I think she has something to say

Amanda-because I want her to be able to reference it after she moves to Santa Cruz and takes a wife.

Montana-because she is crazy

I will never date again...I think

I used to think that being single was fun because I liked meeting new people. I liked the excitement of all of the firsts that come along with a new relationship. I'm just not feeling that way these days. It isn't as if I mind being on my own-in fact I don't think I mind enough...Just the idea of encountering a stranger and having to map them out psychologically and emotionally seems less exciting and more like work.

I am almost 30. I am a spinster by every definition. For any Italians reading this (io sono una zitella). I am more set in my ways and yet, still totally unimpressed with monogamy.

Oh, and I am strange. I have trouble behaving, I cook brunch for dinner, I am generally pretty gassy, if I drink end up using uncomfortable drunk words like "social economic status"and I am terrified of cars to the point that I still don't drive.

Any human that gets involved with me must:

be passionate about something. there has to be something that gets you out of bed.

be flawed and comfortable with those flaws.

needs to let me run when I need to run but still tell be able to tell me no.

not want to change me or view me as a wild horse that needs to be broken.

Must understand that my work is central to who I am and that work will come first sometimes. It doesn't mean that I don't love you, it just means I need to go.

you have to laugh. daily. If we can't laugh together-I don't care if you can make my toes curl. Though admittedly,I may call you from time to time to make my toes curl-I just won't date you per se.

Know that we won't be happy if we don't have a life away from each other. I am going to Italy and you may or may not be invited.

I am still friends with my exes. They are no threat to you. I have mostly guy friends. They are no threat to you... now that Brian is married. (:

Music. Gotta love it. The music thing is non-negotiable. Your taste must be eclectic...I fell in love with a guy because even though he generally listened to jam bands, we were out one night and a song by the Cramps came on the jukebox-he knew every word. That's really all it took.

You need to be able to relax in bed. Let loose and really surrender yourself.

You need to feel free. Whatever that means to you.

I picture old age as a porch, a garden, a couple of dogs and laughter. I want happy, well adjusted children and I want to give them the most precious gift my parents gave me: my independence.

You need to be able to seize the moment, to take silly and unnecessary risks...be spontaneous...

and most importantly...you need to know when to leave.

Any questions?

idle hands are the devil's workshop or woody allen's living room...status pending

these are emails I have actually sent in the last couple of days.

------------------

If love is a multi-faceted thing,we are all doomed.

The human experience that we call love is multifaceted, and human facets are personalities. so love is a mental illness.

if homosexuality was considered a form of crazy in the dsm until what? the 70s? why not love. It is chemical in a carnal animal way we can't understand in our homo sapien sapien grab...it is intellectual in a way we can't understand, because the mind can conceive or reach an understanding with anything but itself.

I love to love love but I have always failed to meets its challenged by its confines.Love leads to monogamy and monagamy leads to monotony and montony is why "Love is a Battlefield".

I think we should all take a lesson from Dante Algheri...who loved his Beatrice from a far...he watched her twitch on a balcony kitty corner to his, and we have poetry to show for it.

I don't know where I am going with this. I am in Vegas, I am desperately in love and it is like the plague but more painful and with less boils in my armpit

---------------------------------------------------------------------------
okay, I know you have been patient and what not...andI thank you for it...but...okay here I go.even though we have some great conversations...I amworried that if I really relax with you that I will offend you and we will go back to how things were whenI first got to vegas.like I feel comfortable talking to you, but then assoon as I really feel comfortable I remind myself to not get too comfortable...because if i get flirty or say the wrong thing you'll close down.or maybe not. Idon't know but the not knowing is making me crazy. Ifeel out of control. generally I wouldn't let this kinda thing get to me,filing all things under "whats the worst that canhappen"..but overall I am emotional and thattranslates into a little crazy (:I feel guilty or uncomfortable when you make me feelgood. and that doesn't seem healthy.you get this thinghere in vegas and i like that we can talk and showthings to each other. I wish I could just relax aboutit.are you relaxed about it?my respect for you isn't nostalgic, it is very much inthe present. I get excited when I think about what youare building...I can't figure out if you are arsonistor a contractor...are you starting fires or creatingdoors that the union walks through? or both. whichmakes sense...you are bi. bi-social activist.when you talked about the steel town becoming a gamingtown...it made me swell with pride and excitement. Ihave looked at this time in history as beingdark...but you flipped it around and showed me thegood...how exciting this time is. all this stuff is so intense. I had trouble sleepinglast night just thinking about all the possibilities.There is so much beauty and humanity in this work. Iliterally feel, pardon the cliche, like I am waking upfrom a coma.I tried to talk to lynn about this and she looked atme like I was nuts and then offered me a cookie (noshit). I am going to say what I have said since thebeginning...it would be so much easier if we lived inthe same city. we could have the good without thecrazy. I think.

Self indulgent blog about nothing.

Since I have been in Vegas I have been spending most of my time alone. My job limits my interaction with people and what boundaries work doesn't present-I do. Still making sense of this place, I find myself taking on a very pedestrian role in my personal life. So I people watch, more than usual-which is borderline excessive to begin with. I have come to a very obvious conclusion about Vegas-it is full of freaks.

There are all these things that make this city more odd than others-and I don't think it stems from the obvious, ya know...hookers,the mafia etc.

Riding the bus here is an adventure that I can't even begin to share with you. people party at the bus stops...not people taking the bus,but just random folks..

I have seen people smoking meth from a glass dick, doing bumps off a switchblade, drinking beer until they vomit...people talking to cars, running down the street playing newspaper vending machines like bongos...I have met asian cooks named charlie...sat next to yacked out jesus freaks...I have watched a deaf sanitation man get really mad about....well...something...I had a man sit next next to me and I couldn't tell if he had the shakes or was jerking off, at any rate when he finished the twitching he held his hands as if they were paws and he was a dog begging...for the entire bus ride.

and then there is me...floating out there among the flotsam and jetsom. When I ride the bus to work sun shadows the mountains and the panorama seems like a watercolor rendering of the skyline...the only thing that makes it all come back to reality is the Stratosphere Hotel...which rides the skyline like a huge cock.

oh and I need cock. just throwing that out there.

giggles in Los Angeles.

This is lobster boy. he makes me smile. He is one of the most creative and good natured people on the planet. We both crawled out of the same cesspool otherwise known as the central valley. We re-connected after 15 years while we were both in limbo. I was in the earliest phases of my present assignment, and he was in between homesteading and clown college.

did I say that he makes me smile?

oh, and he loves puppeteering.

www.breadandpuppet.org

connecting the dots...

I was going through my pack this week and I found the keys to my house in Memphis.

My house. My bed. My dogs and my big back yard. The keys that open the doors to what was my life.

Problem is, by the time I packed my bags, my life wasn't mine anymore.

The drugs and booze had sucked all the light out and left a black hole.

I had given up.

but when I found those keys, I just broke down...

I haven't dealt with my feelings about my time in Memphis.

I had a friend in town and he sort of attacked me verbally, about my self destructive behaviour. That was like another key, opening the door to where all this hurt was hiding.

I just cried and cried.

How can I miss someone, or something that hurt me so much? Do I go back to Memphis and face what I left or do I wait until I am stronger? Will I be stronger if I don't deal with these feelings? Can I do this on my own? Should I see a therapist?

I want all the hurt to stop. I want to be free.

Lost
In this desert
Tiny little stones
My hands
held
for years
Pechanga,
Morongo,
Barona
you.

you
left
my love
left
me sleeping
with ghosts
Found
HERE
In this desert
you.

And from this dust
rebuilt-
you
A maze
me
still
finding my way
HERE
I am
scared, strong
I am
Ocotillo,underbrush
fire,burning
out of control
this passion
HERE
with you.

Sleeping for years
consumed
In a summer
bed
where
still
I lay,
remains,
The image
your body,
traced
In gesso
for years
men,fingers
bent to fit
those invisible lines
crossed
somewhere in L.A.
you knew.

My loves
just
tiny little stones
thrown at the sun
begging orbit
begging among
tiny little stars
that hold
my big big dreams
and you.

In this desert
you
left
me
waiting
for you
I am
still
HERE
waiting
to forget
that
it is still
just
you.

5:10 pm may 12th 2007

smooth jazz

I hate smooth jazz...no, hate isn't a strong enough word. It grates on my soul until I want to poke ice picks through my eardrums. My roommates boyfriend, who owns the house that I am staying in, is cracked out on smooth jazz.He has a system that pumps that shite into every orafice of the home and head. And to top it off the guy is a door slammer. He doesn't walk, he charges. The combo of bad tunes and door slamming has left my nerves frazzled. Yesterday when I saw him with his bags I felt a wave of relief. The reign of terror was coming to an end.

I have been wearing ear plugs just to dull the pain. until yesterday, when he left for Alaska for 6 months.

I love music. I love music that makes me think,music that makes me move, music that is pretty...smooth jazz takes all of that out and adds Kenny G. I mean, a Celine Dion soundtrack hit is marginal to begin with, but as annoying as that woman's warbling is, some fucknut's jazz stylings of "My Heart Will Go On" is infinitely more sinister.It is aural terrorism.

A smooth jazz station is a concentration camp for the art and beauty and music.

and now in the house...Prime time in the daytime-the way god intended it.

Dear Circus Freak,

So talking to you feels good. If I felt more comfortable with the present state of my body I would catch a bus to LA and try to convert you to my personal cult of me.

we would eat dark chocolate and skip the carrot cake (because of its naughty implications) and laugh. we would try to integrate your 5,000 personalities and figure out better ways to lash out at your monkey.

you would under no circumstance attempt to get to know or understand my bladder or any other orafice with out explicit instruction from the big cheese, but never take direction from the big champagne cake.It goes limp far too quickly to be of any use.

but alas, I rest here in vegas with my dimples and lumps and leave you to "hustlebuns" around LA...doing that thing you do, with or sans patchuli, balls to the wind, ass hair matted like god intended but never would admit...yes, the stage has been set and balls are in motion ( and also to the wind as previously stated).

maybe if the intern thing doesn't pan out I will become a mime...but like a talking one that drinks too much. I could do running social commentary or narrate german sheiss porn. the game would not be getting to me to talk, but to shut up and stop urinating in public.

yeah. that would be cool.

so you wanna make out sometime?

Old Vegas,new life

My favorite thing about the desert.

Today was a lazy Sunday in Sin City.

Ballad of an Ex-Patriot
we have watched our leaders die.
you
my america
war torn open
gaping wound
you
like your heroes
bleeding,
broken machines
I can still taste
your poverty,
hunger,
screaming in the mouth
as fear
Interrupts
skylines,lifetimes
with factories,
prisons,
The border:
An effort to make
emperors
of lesser men and
slaves
of all the rest and
you
of pain inflicted
passively-
we have have witnessed infinite suffering
passively-
men,women born
of earth and sky
falling, becoming
slaves
in fields
blistering,
burning
under the sun
men, women growing...still
like the ocotillo
and like the ocotillo
I stood
naked, incomplete
under layers of winter
my hands growing...cold
beneath his clothes
seeking out your cities,
desert bleeding highways cutting
through valleys,stripmalls
The Inland Empire and
you
smog and salt
now seasons away
I can still taste
your revolution,
vision
of working men,women
flooding,fleeing
The land they have
cultivated for years
of wealthy men
lying,dying in
the beds they have
made of our tears
A revolution
of you,
your skin against mine
you,
my america,
dreaming, dissident
gaping wound
you left me
bleeding, mourning,
you, for an eternity
I would rather suffer,
Feel your absence
than for a moment
return and
find
you
feeling
nothing-

Addio

Flashback...

He is standing under a streetlight,hands indicating exactly how much taller he'd like to be. I loved him then. In that moment. He holds my gaze and I know he feels the same. I had spent the year before in Italy, I lived and loved without him...2 days before I had grabbed my best girlfriend, an ill fitting straw hat and had showed up at a picketline he was walking in San Diego. I loved him in that moment. Now we were back in SF in our old neighbourhood and I wanted nothing more than to touch him. To tell him what I was feeling. To let him know that he had me at "Pecan Pie". That no one else mattered...but I never did. Within a year he was gone and I, broken, went back to Europe to avenge the death of that relationship.

I buried him. I wrote poetry and threw rocks at the sun. I drank bottles of wine and had dangerous lovers. I buried him...made plans, traveled loosely, buried myself in music, traded Europe for Central America and Central America for the Dirty Dirty. I loved recklessly and blindly. I hurt. I buried him and I forgot.

Flash Forward...

I am in Vegas, banging my head against the wall. He is irrational. He lashes out. I wish he would just ask me how I feel instead of putting up walls and pushing me away. After all this time, you'd think we could just relaz and enjoy each other.

new hair for a new beginning.

The stratosphere
And
I am on
Top
with you
Below
Smiling,
Scared
of heights
So my eyes are closed
with you
Inside me
Immaculate
naked,naked
beautiful
I
catch my breath,your breath
Then let them
go
now
This is us
wax limbs
hot melting into
each other
Far too close,
now
Far too close-
the sun,
like the desert outside
sweating
And this
is all you know of
me burning
mouth moving over
you
warm skin
this, that
me before
I started this
running
And this
is all I know
you nervous
Tumbling,
Fumbling over
hands,words
this,that
you
I crave,carried with me
On the road
I spent years
running
trying
to fill
holes,
empty
with holes
I dug
On my own
trying to forget
you
I forgot
myself
And now
I am on top
dangling,tangling
with you
your breath
my breath
the stratosphere
shaking,scared
eyes closed
I don't want to
let you
go
and I am
naked,naked
terrified
for the first time
in years
I am not
running
and this is us
skin,salt
left to say
what we won't
don't worry
or forget
I love you

march 9th 2007 rome

So I flew back to the states via D.C. yesterday...oh
what fun that was.

They asked me the normal questions, (i.e. where did
you go,why,etc).Then they asked me about vegas. this
is where  I guess I should have lied,but didn't
anticipate a problem because I had done nothing wrong.
I told him I was re-locating there for work. Which is
the truth, and makes more sense than saying I was
going on another vacation- seeing as I am no Paris
Hilton.

Then he asked me about what kinda of work I was
in.Told him I was a bartender,which sounded better
than waitress and more legit than "in the restaurant
biz".Then the guy  start scrutinizing my
passport,saying it looked altered because it is a bit
frayed,but its because I use it.in the last nine
years,how many trips have i taken?

It all went down hill from there.he yellow lines me
and sends me to the next guy.the next guy had seen too
many bad cop movies,his form of interrogation was
weak. if I was guilty and had half a brain, I would
see thru his ruse.

he asked me questions, then would switch it up, ask me
the same questions, a bit differently in a different
order.He accused me of being in the possession of a
false passport,traveling on it, and possibly even
making that document.Oh and smuggling, even though he
hadn't even searched my bag.My heart didn't even
flutter. I was not guilty. I didn't even have my usual
bottle of olive oil from the farm,or contraband
sausage and cheese. I had some dirty underwear,my
music,and a pair of jeans. I told him to search me,go
for it. have fun.I had over two hours til i caught my
flight to vegas.

here were his problems:
I had no cash on me but was in the process of
relocating.
I told him i had a money wire waiting for me in vegas,
traveling with cash isn't safe.

in my passport pic i look much younger.
I asked him if I looked that bad now but I was 20 when
the pic was taken, I am 29 now...those are some big
years.Of course I look older.

My passport says I am Californian, but when he asked
where I was last employed I said memphis. Then from
memphis, i got to rome, then from rome to vegas. my
movements didn't make sense.

I told him I was a bartender. we move with business.I
told him I sympathized with his suspicions, if i
didn't know I wasn't guilty,I would think I was guilty
of something as well,but I am not.

he finally let me go, but not without telling me again
that I "don't add up".

oh,if he only knew how much.

meanwhile surely eastern european hookers with bellies
full of drugs made it on through,unscathed. there was
a russian woman with a glass eye and red patten
leather boots in line behind me, with her "hubbie".
she got right on thru. me,they sequester and harass.

your tax dollars at work.