Friday, December 29, 2006

Woe Is Me.

When I was younger I thought the hallmarks of being a Grown Up were drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, but whenever I buy a copy of the paper I stick to the art, entertainment and obituary sections and my coffee usually has enough sugar in it to be mistaken for some sort of caffeinated kool-aid.

Thursday, December 21, 2006

A Practical Theory of Relativity

Sometimes I think about the Girls Gone Wild franchise -- specifically, the Spring Break videos -- and I realize, with a fair bit of horror, that many of those drunken, slutty, borderline-retarded chicks actually finished college or university.
Which I failed to do.

Back when I was in college, I would often think about the sleazy, exploitative 21-year old punk who devised of the Girls Gone Wild franchise and is now a goddamn millionaire.

So, of the above mentioned, which of us is the most offensive?

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

During The One Hour I Slept...

I dreamt that Ryan, Dickie and I lived together in my old house on Calla Ave. We lounged on the couch and read magazines. Richard came in and handed me one: A Hundred Different Hairstyles. This should fix it, he said. "My hair?" I asked, and he shrugged.


Saturday, December 16, 2006

Out For A Walk.

There's a car parked outside our apartment with an open (broken?) window and a piece of cardboard affixed to the opening that ominously warns: Stay out! You're being watched!

The UC Berkeley tower bells, sadly but maybe inevitably, have stopped ringing.

Monday, December 4, 2006

There's A Hole In My Heart That Can Only Be Filled By You

The painstakingly well-preserved issues of Rolling Stone and Spin from the mid 90's that lined the bottom of the drawers of a dresser are now thrashed and trashed in a cardboard box, useless, but to be held as evidence. The very clear memory of reading interviews with Courtney Love which sooner or later would always come to the inevitable question of just how, exactly, her band got its name. She always attributed it to something her mother said once, chastising her during a phone conversation: You can't go walking around with this hole inside of you.

How odd is it to still remember that, to sometimes say it to myself, under my breath? It is not a matter of feeling empty, of feeling a need to be filled up, but the vague fear that maybe some holes can't be filled, maybe they just keep going and going.

The funny thing is that she changed her answer after awhile. Maybe she got bored or maybe she decided it wasn't quite a good enough story, but in later interviews she claimed that the band name was a reference to Medea. (Even though I'd read the tragedy I could never figure out the connection or the passage she was referring to.) Maybe she didn't think anyone would notice, but most likely she just didn't care. Maybe it was just nice to be able to give an answer that didn't reveal something quite so truthful.

Sunday, December 3, 2006


This may be where it started: That fall of freshman year of highschool, with the best friend-to-be pulling me aside, asking me just what my problem was, why I was shutting up, holding back. There was something about her that I couldn't quite put my finger on, but it seemed best not to get too close or to trust too much. Why don't you like me, she had wanted to know during those first few weeks. I mumbled something about the fact that she scared me, reminded me of the sort of girl who'd read your journal when you weren't looking or steal the towel from your shower stall for a laugh.

At the time she was offended, and I was eventually convinced that I was being irrational. Neither of us hardly expected that I could possibly be psychic, that both of those things (and so many more) would actually come true. I hardly expected to get that close or to get that hurt, and to be ridiculous enough to try again as soon as the wounds had healed.

How do you know what is intuition and what is paranoia? I stopped listening to both awhile back and now I wonder if that's why I've gotten blind-sided so many times in the past year or so. Is instinct a "use it lose it" sort of thing, if you fail to take advantage of it, will it end up getting rusty or leaving you?

And once you realize it's missing, how do you get it back?