apparently i'm late to the game on watching this, but i'm re-in-love with this song. the video is just perfect and complements the song, highlighting the bits and pieces that add up to make it so great.

Chris Bell - I am the Cosmos

Pete Yorn and Scarlett Johansson - I am the cosmos

the massage

Someone often told me, "if it works, its obsolete".

Few wise words have be drilled into me as much as those McLuhans, and they come to mind at this moment as I feel so utterly out of whack, so out of touch with all of the things that I'm feeling. I realize that I have chosen to be borderline content. To forgo wracking my brain to get to the root of it, choosing instead to blissfully huff along. I have taken to distracting myself with shiny objects, home projects and planned trips out of this repetitive city.

There are interesting new people, there are places to go, and maps to route out, but I feel no desire to experience them. I'd rather sit with my semi-sibs watching food network til 4am salivating over the corn paella and sea urchin flan than hit up that same-ole party. I might like that bartender, but I'll just wave as I walk up to my apartment while he tries to mouth something to me through the window.

I'm more content with being alone again. Sometimes it's almost too much effort to invest in these places and these restaurants and these jobs. My apartment never says the wrong thing or bugs me; the streets of downtown never get tired or stump me with awkward silence, and my own company rarely causes me anxiety.

Alas, I also realize that my apartment doesn't make me laugh, and the streets of downtown certainly do not teach me about mind control or space conspiracy and will not be around to try to figure out vanilla sky with me.

I need the contact again. Not the live-in contact which eventually did become obsolete, but I need the friendship, the companionship, and the person to fucking talk it out with. I want it back.

part two.

On the second night, I left my zone again, traveling away from my downtown everyday, my job, my collection of tea and my organized dishes; I was leaving comfortable for the canyon. Upon my arrival I was greeted with hugs and waves and kisses, all from one new friend and was led to a bungalow covered in vines and through one of those beautiful doors. The kind that hardly has a lock, dark forest green wood with window panes and a tiny doorknob. The room was filled with candle light and the smell of sage, the walls lined with books.

I sat down in front of a man with a young face, and old, eyeliner-rimmed eyes filled with jaded experience. He wore a thousand bracelets, and twice as many necklaces. I later noticed two long dreadlocks flopping down his back, as long as an old mans beard and then some. He was to be our tour guide for the night, telling stories over countless cigarettes and swigs of Jim Beam whiskey. I wondered briefly if I was back in the 60s Laurel Canyon, talking about the kind of life things I have yet to experience and astrology and our bodies. I was in the company of some of those educated types who don't have it together, the ones who get evicted, who subsist on whiskey and coke, and who look back on their past successes and failures with seemingly no regret and only stories that beg to be passed on. The kind of men who love women, and while maybe trying to sleep with you, they back off upon hearing you're "someone else's girl" for that night.

I struggled early on in the night as an outsider, wondering why I was there, why these characters were accepting me into their fucked up world, telling me the most intimate details of their lives all the while complementing me and touching my hair and asking nothing in return. i soon let it all go and gave in to the night.

I was in a foreign country, and I loved every uncomfortable minute.

I want to write about tonight specifically because it was just so generally blasé. Neither good nor bad I felt both inside and outside of the scene. For once I was fairly impressed with the sartorial choices that LA brought to this particular party, and I was met with familiar gorgeous faces with whom I conversed, though briefly, amongst the aural goodness that Busy P, Sebastian Tellier and crew brought to the table.

Perhaps its a sign, a sign that I have overcome L.A. That I have taken all I need from it. Because, I know the people there that I want to know, I danced with the best of them, and even recruited some to the blue screen dance floor up on the 8th floor Roosevelt room sanctioned off for an upcoming exhibition.

A lovely Brit who reminded me of a friend I still hold dear brought it into a strange perspective.

Why was this night not "cool"? Why am I so unsatisfied? It's fucking LA for godsakes, and I am surrounded by actual INTERESTING people! Not the kind who feign coolness - the kind who dress up in their finest Forever21 and Louboutins and pretend they are wearing CDG with said Louboutins! I mean, actual card carrying filmmakers who are working towards something.

Perhaps my gin and tonics were not doing the trick, but for 13 bucks a pop I need them to offer me some hazy goodness!
Alas, LA, you might be slipping from my grips. My current craziness and unhappiness might be in reaction to you. A trip is in order, and dear blog you will be the first to hear about it. Relocation '10.

on a lovelier note. j'adore les FENDI stripper shoes:

I want to be adopted.

No, not like that. I'm good with my parents, love the sibs, etc etc. I want to be adopted by a man. If anything, when it comes to me and the opposite sex, I claim to be independent, a loner, a pre-spinster-aged spinster. I live alone, I work alone, and generally, I feel safe alone. But lately I feel very different.

I miss my old friend. I miss having a local partner in crime. And I have finally come to terms with the idea that I want and need to be rescued.

I want you to see me walking alone on the street.
I want you to come up to me, to invite me to your friend's party.
I want you to tell me to stop by your store to see the new pieces you've designed or the film you're working on.
I want to be hugged and to be caught before I faint.
I want to be led blindly through this city, to new places with new people.
I want you to teach me things, tell me your favorite stories and touch my hair while doing it.
I want you to take my hand, and walk me down the steepest hill, looking up at me as I look down at the ground hoping not to slide and slip in my ballet slippers.
I want to be okay with the silence, but to fill it up with laughter when you joke.
Most of all, I want to feel loved, to feel important, and to be okay with you.

re⋅straint
-noun
1. a restraining action or influence: freedom from restraint.
2. Sometimes, restraints. a means of or device for restraining, as a harness for the body.
3. the act of restraining, holding back, controlling, or checking.
4. the state or fact of being restrained; deprivation of liberty; confinement.
5. constraint or reserve in feelings, behavior, etc.

like a leather jacket that would last 50 years

this is too much.

"I enjoy inventing things out of fun. After all, life is a game, not a career" - Brion Gysin

until i figure that whole thing out

its nice when you happen upon an old friend, and everything that kept them from being great is seemingly gone. so you just be and its like the old days except better because he can ramble off artists instead of south park quotes and politics instead of bong hits and there is nicer wine involved and his hair looks great, and you just feel the love again.


tonight. hearts.

dhfgaljechgrabjrhajhegracjhegrkjhxgrckjhgerajwr.



no. words. jil sander.

i am a passenger.

I've been recently obsessed with all that is Laurel Canyon in the 1960s and 70s. Namely, all that is british invasion/rock-and-roll/folk/pop-ish of those decades. But not just the music; that is only 10 percent of this time's appeal. For its all about the personalities.

Being a slightly obsessive people watcher/listener/student, I am naturally drawn to this era of womens lib, not for feminist reasons but rather for behavioral reasons. Reading about the "groupies" of the time, reminiscent of the Penny Lane character in Almost Famous, which is arguably based upon girl-about-town (groupie) Pamela des Barres, I have become not only fascinated, but impressed by their drive.

The term "groupie" tends to have a negative connotation, at least in my mind, describing those women who are desperately driven to flirt with rock stars who may or may not remember their name the next day. Being a self proclaimed groupie at times (several occasions come to mind a la mystery jets, klaxons and shout out louds, among others) I understand the appeal of getting to know these untouchable rockstars for a night. Maybe it spills into more nights, facebook messages, chance meetings in downtown speakeasies, or nothing at all, but its certainly an exhilarating experience! We admire these men and women from afar, digesting and chewing and spitting out their music and lyrics; getting to know them brings it to a new level. In my experience, these musicians can be everything you think and more. Sharing late nights and acoustic performances in hotel rooms complete with the requisite booze and drugs, I've gotten the opportunity to meet some amazing people. Some of the most amazing people out there! Taking risks in order to do what they love!

But I've gotten off on a cheese-oid tangent now.

After spending the past week among those who would skip an adventure any day for the security of love and marriage, I began to wonder, what makes me different from them. Why would I, hands down, no question choose a fleeting night of amazing conversation, of possible let down or hazy thoughtfulness in lieu of security. Pamela des Barres, head groupie of the 60s and 70s, and paramour to the top men of the era (yes, I'm talking the likes of Jimmy Page, Mick Jagger, members of the Byrds, and probably any notable musician of the time), sought this kind of security in a seemingly backward way.

She is quoted saying "The other factor was that I was growing up in the Sixties. I had watched my Mom be the Fifties Mom, the slave Mom...this was the era of free love and women's lib. I wanted to be the Fifties Mom, the slave Mom. I wanted to really fall in love one day. But I believed it would be liberating and pleasurable in the meantime to have sex and to fall 1/2in love one day...to have sex whenever I wanted it - like men."

She eventually married one of these untouchables, had a child with him, and is now separated from him. She's an extreme case, and it seems she has yet to become this head-over-heels-in-love, ring-on-your-finger-forever, slave-mom she described, but maybe she never wanted it for herself. I'm assuming a lot here, but I wonder if we have to choose an extreme. A life of crazy one night stands, or a life of stability and dinner on the table.

I think we are missing out by choosing one over the other. By choosing one, we become passenger seat drivers. We dwell upon what we are gaining or missing out on, therefore losing control of the wheel, giving up the drivers seat, and drifting towards the middle of nowhere.

phillip lim resort 10

i never looked at this in june
of course i like it!



uh how weird is it that i typed 10. as in 2010. yeah.

a week away puts things in perspective. or not.
thick accents and y'alls and marriage and babies, thank god i'm away from it 350 out of 365ish.

days of sun and sea breezes and nights of humid beer...pong? and life conversations and talks of others' long distance relationships, their 6 month old loves and...sex?

realizations of addictions to... life? texts and instant messages, and where does this leave me? where it take us? its all unknown but its all clear to me now.

finished novels and new ones begun, finished crushes and new ones in the works its all a blur and all a memory i want to forget.

alone is the way i prefer these days, everything else tends to be a let down. so ill sit here bingeing on lady gaga to forget about all of the things I have to do and the people I'm supposed to see and the ones I can't seem to forget about.

it's sort of a mess in my head that I don't care to clean up right now.