The Evolution of Revolution

"Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go."

 


Summer has hit me like a ton of bricks. When the weather changes it feels to me like the whole world changes. When the weather is suddenly hot, I begin to imagine myself an inhabitant of some prehistoric jungle with giant leaves and exaggerated flowers. Everything is beautiful and all the dinosaurs are docile. Every thing in the bright green and pink and yellow ecosystem settles and shares drinks at the nearest watering hole. Such is summer in Los Angeles. All the turmoil, all the monsters settle, and everyone spends the next three months at the beach trying to forget the tragedy that was the previous winter in a booze and hash induced haze. Everything wrong is right again and each one of us has the permission to stop all productivity and cut loose.

The sunshine inspires. There are more warm sunny hours in the day, more time to meet people, more time to create and explore, more time for drugs, more time for vacations, trips to the middle of nowhere, more time to stay up even later passing joints and singing songs with friends. When it’s hot I understand how revolutions could begin in someone’s living room.

This summer, my revolution began at a bar. Should be no surprise there, since the bars are where I spend a large majority of my time.  But maybe this evening was special. Maybe I had just had the right combination of drink and drug to feel open. Maybe I’m in love. Maybe I’m in love with him or with myself or with everyone right now. Maybe I’m just in love with being able to do whatever I want. Maybe Independence Day struck me closer to home than it normally does. Last night, Joshua and I started a revolution.

Since he and I reconnected recently, we’ve maybe hung out a handful of times, including one almost date where we cooked at my house and ended up eating dinner on the rooftop of my apartment building looking at the stars. Still no kiss, by the way.  This week, he called and invited me to his band’s show. Last night was the first in a summer series of shows, a residency, at a local music venue right in my neighborhood where Audiobahn would be playing along with a bunch of other musical guests.  I spent about 2 hours getting ready while Travis sat on the bed, smoking rip after rip on my bong and occasionally passing me cigarettes that we were sharing, watching me get dressed and undressed and dressed again. Since Mike and I broke up, I’ve been enjoying getting dressed. I can be as outrageous and unbridled as I like. Tonight I’ve chosen a handmade vintage sundress, sunny yellow with small pink and green flowers all over it, 6” pink pumps, almost all of the jewelry I own, a giant brimmed floppy straw hat and black smokey makeup. I look fabulous. Travis is wearing the standard: tattered jeans with the knees blown out, tight grey teeshirt and a shabby but well fitted flannel on top. I already tried on his clothes and decided I didn’t want to wear them tonight. He rolled us a couple of joints and said it was time to head to the show.  

The revolution began about 6 drinks later and after all the bands had broken down their equipment. With a lit joint in one hand, and a lit cigarette in the other, I’m standing outside the club with Joshua, laughing at my own expense and raving about the show. Joshua starts talking about being an artist, a starving musician, a rambler. He starts talking about his plans and his hopes and his dreams for this summer residency. I am getting sucked in. I’m talking about free spirits and love and positive energy. He mentions he wants to move out of his house, not pay rent, really go for the true artist lifestyle. Plus he needs to be closer to Hollywood. High as a kite and 3 too many drinks, everything makes sense to me. Obviously, he should move in with me! And I drunkenly grab his shoulders, shake him, tell him to move in with me and attempt to convince him that this is clearly the best idea that I’ve ever had. In shock, but brimming with what I perceived to be joy, he accepts! We speak of plans and revolution. We will network and help each other and build an artists’ commune where we all live and love for free, fuck each other, live on pancakes, all play music and act together, take mushrooms and write scripts. The fantasies of finding 20 or 30 likeminded fellows and converting a loft into a music venue, playhouse, cultural center, drug den—throbbing, thriving, living, breathing, sticky, beautiful, and powerful—begin.  So he’s moving in to my studio apartment sometime this coming weekend. I may have proclaimed that I wouldn’t fuck him while he lived in my apartment. I do seem to remember saying that last night, but today as I’m writing this, I’m thinking that vow might get ignored.

I don’t think I’ve ever been more excited in my entire life. My close friend is moving in with me, I’m free as a bird and high as a kite all day every day. I am going to help Josh work on the show. Josh already told Travis and I that we can perform at the residency if we want. I’m going to help promote and book. I’m going to introduce Josh to every musician I know. Everyone can come back to ‘our’ place after the concerts every weekend. I am going to finally have the dream… the dream apartment where everyone drops by all the time… the dream lifestyle of someone active who has a booming social life and constantly surrounded by music… the dream love life where I really can have it all, the friendship, the sex, the openness, the freedom… everything I’ve ever wanted and all because I’m allowing it to happen. I started paving a pathway for myself to be happy, and within a matter of weeks it has turned into a freeway—no, an interstate!—no, an enormous intercontinental transit web of highways just for me!

Mike always said if we broke up that I’d be the one that was fucked. Well, suck my intercontinental highway of happiness Mike. If I had known that not being with you would be this good, I would have left you a long time ago. And you know what? I am fucked. On a much more regular basis than when we were dating.

Swept Away

"One should always be in love. That is the reason one should never marry."

At a bar with Anna one night a few weeks ago, I met a man. I cozied up to the bar, ordered my standard white Russian—no, it’s not because I’m a Lebowski fan, it’s because I like them—and a handsome man starts teasing me. I watch him take a shot of whisky, a gulp down a mouthful of PBR. Oh a man's man, have we? Funny, you don't seem so manly with your perfectly sculpted but tossled hair and vaguely hidden Hollywood attitude. Making fun of a girl is the fastest way to her heart, so naturally, we struck up a conversation. He has amazing taste in music, he’s a working actor, he owns most of the Criterion collection. His name is Adam.

One afternoon last week he called.  He’s funny and he brings out a slightly wicked side of my sense of humor. It happens to be one of my favorite parts of my personality and when I find someone that lets me indulge it, I fall head over heels. We finally set a date to watch movies at his apartment. The plan was that I was going to go to his place after I got off work (we’re talking like...11pm) and watch some movies, Eyes Wide Shut in particular. That’s the most suggestive date I could imagine really. Saying to a lady, “do you want to come over at 11pm and drink wine and watch a movie,” is just shy of saying, “want some dick?” I got a wax the next morning and I never looked so fucking good at work.

I took a cheese plate from the restaurant and picked up a bottle of wine – just to make sure there was going to be enough. I call from outside the gate to his building and we have the awkward walk upstairs to his place. The walk upstairs can be a kiss of death. You feel uncomfortable saying a proper hello or hugging when you’re outside, but then it’s a little late by the time you’re in the apartment and set all the booze down. He opens the door and I’m pleasantly surprised. The apartment is furnished and very clean. Let’s face it, you can’t expect much from young bachelors these days; you’re lucky if they have a mattress and a lamp. He comes to grab the bags out of my hands and as he leans down he kisses me on the cheek and says he’s so happy that I could come over. He pours two glasses of wine, hands me one and two cds. He had burned me some compilations earlier in the day, music that he thought I’d like. It also happens to be his favorites, folk and bluegrass, banjos and steel guitars, The Avett Brothers and Sufjan Stevens. It occurred to me that if dating was really like this, then I had been seriously missing out the last few years.

We put the movie on and of course we talk over it. I’m sitting on my knees, with my left hand draped over the back of the couch, using it occasionally to muss my hair. He’s stretched out with his hands behind his head and his elbows wide against pillows and the couch corner. He has a face that puzzles you. It is difficult to tell if you want to punch it or kiss it, until he blushes and you feel like you’ve won a war. The messy hair, the adorable self-deprication, the leather jacket—I was doomed before I started.

The movie is over and we’re still talking, telling ghost stories and making fun of each other. At four in the morning, I’d had enough chatting. I couldn’t quite figure it out. We were having such a good time, but he still hadn’t made a move on me. I start trying to leave but it turns into 45 minutes of more stories. I start thinking that it’s actually kind of lovely that we didn’t hook up. Maybe that’s normal. Maybe he just wants to get to know me. Maybe he just wants to be a friend. I could use some new friends right now. Even with the positive outlook, the slight rejection only makes me want him more. I vow to myself that I will get what I want out of this – a good fuck and a fun drinking buddy.

We eventually pulled ourselves together and he walked me out to my car. He stopped me at the gate; the sun was coming up. The sky was gray-pink and palm trees were silhouetted against the morning haze. As I was turning to go, Adam put his hand on my cheek and kissed me. It was small and delicate and sweet. He pulled me a little closer and we breathed each other in. I smiled and asked him why he waited so long. “You’re a difficult lady to read,” he says. “From now on, I’ll be much more clear,” I promise as I throw my shoes in the back seat and climb into the car barefoot. I wasn’t able to sleep when I got home and I smiled all day that afternoon.

Is it possible I accidentally stumbled onto something great? The date appeared very suggestive, but then he was a perfect gentleman. Illusions and games? Okay, sweetheart, you’ve got my attention. I’m delightfully intrigued. He seems perfect for me. But the timing doesn’t make any sense. What is the universe trying to tell me? I am trying to remind myself that I can’t get involved in anything serious; my heart is still in shock, and I don’t believe that I could really feel anything. At the very least, I’m terrified of feeling anything again. A good fuck and a drinking buddy, I remind myself.  

Thank you for the beautiful music.

Joshua: Round 3

" One should always be in love. That is the reason one should never marry."

I’ve already talked a lot about my ladies, those near and dear to my heart lunatics that supply me love and drugs. Now it’s time to introduce some of my favorite men. When I was dating Mike, I didn’t have any guy friends – well, a gay here or there and a close girlfriend’s boyfriend. But those hardly count. I like my relationships with more uncertainty and a lot more sexual tension. Since Mike and I split, a surge of boys has exploded on to my scene – and I’m hoping they’ll all explode on my…

Nevermind.

It’d be too much information to write all in one blog, so over the next couple of days I’m going to tell stories about them all. First up, Joshua. 

Joshua and I have a decent amount of history already behind us. 3 years ago, right before I started dating Mike, I met Joshua at the birthday party of a friend. I don’t remember much about the party, except that night Lizbeth (who was my roommate at the time) started hooking up with the birthday boy – a former flame of mine – and Joshua and I got to gabbing about comic books or music or something else that proves how awesome I am. I distinctly remember being in a bedroom with other people around passing pipes and smoking stoags, and Joshua and I standing in the middle of it all ignoring everything around us and just talking. That kind of thing doesn’t happen to me very often.  Not that you can tell from how honest I am here, but I don’t open up to people in my real life very easily - especially not at parties. Even though we were having a lovely conversation, something was missing for me. I wasn’t quite attracted to him. I couldn’t put my finger on it. He was too close to my height, or I didn’t like his face. Who knows? Lizbeth and her new boyfriend - the birthday boy, my old flame and also Joshua’s best friend - pushed and pushed and really wanted to get us together. Over the next month or so, it was all she would talk about with me and a couple of times actually ambushed me with a double date. I had a boyfriend at the time, Bird; we were unhappy but I still felt like what Lizbeth was doing was weird. So nothing ever happened. It fizzled out just as abruptly as it began. That was round 1 with Joshua. Round 2 came about 6 months later when Bird and I finally did break up. If you’re following the time line of my dating history at all, you already know that Bird and I broke up because I started seeing Mike. Early in my relationship with Mike, I was adamant about not being exclusive.  In retaliation, even though it wasn’t what he wanted at all, Mike was sleeping with other girls too. Joshua suddenly appeared in my life again. I don’t even remember how. All of a sudden, he and I were hanging out together alone, and I was wearing his sweater to sleep in. Lizbeth ate every moment of this up. Despite spending a lot of time together, nothing physical ever happened. We would ride around and play each other music; we bonded over Jeff Buckley, Radiohead, Bjork, The Talking Heads. One night we ended up at a lookout point on Mulholland, looking down at the sea of lights known as “The Valley.” Very romantic. We stood there together, and if ever there was a moment to make something happen, that was it. I don’t think I got so much as a hand hold. Someday I’ll have to ask him what in the world he was thinking about that stopped him from throwing me on the ground and shoving his tongue in my face. Life is not the movies, as it turns out, and sometimes people just chicken out. I didn’t see him again after that. I decided to let it go and besides that, things with Mike were heating up to a point beyond control.

I didn’t see Joshua most of the time that Mike and I dated. He started dating a girl too. Every so often (like.. once a year), I would force Mike to come with me to see Josh’s band, Audiobahn, play. Once I wanted to go to Josh’s birthday party and had to make Mike go or else there’d be no other way I would be allowed. We fought the whole way there and when we finally arrived, there was a line to get in the bar and Mike just couldn’t stand the whole situation. We left. Apparently, Joshua’s girlfriend wasn’t super fond of me either. In my opinion, she found me threatening for no reason.  Maybe he failed to mention to her that he never really liked me enough to touch me.

Oddly enough, Joshua and his girlfriend broke up around the same time as Mike and I ended. Probably within two weeks of each other. It started as chatting on facebook, then texts and now we are hanging out again three years after Round 2 had crashed and burned. I see him all the time. We talk all the time. It feels like we're very close, like we have been this whole time and there wasn't a three year hiatus in our friendship. For a boy that doesn't like me much he sure does like to pretend otherwise. It is odd and beautiful and overwhelming. This is exactly what I wanted. This is exactly the reason Mike and I broke up – there’s a whole world of people and friends that I’ve missed out on because I wasn’t allowed to develop friendships. Having a boyfriend is ridiculous. All it does it hold you back.

I’m unencumbered this time, and time has done some good things to Joshua’s look, style, and demeanor. Suddenly he is attractive. Very. Maybe he always has been but I was distracted. Or maybe I’m just trying to conquer as many people as possible right now. Either way, I’m locked and loaded and ready for Round 3. Bring it on, Darlin.

 
I played this for you that night driving up to that lookout point. I didn't know then that it would be so true. I dedicate this to you and here's hoping it won't be true again ;)

MY PUSSY IS A DICK

Watch the Sunrise

"To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance. "

 


Two weeks ago, I had a rough week – the kind of ruthless week that just won’t quit and might even land you with the nickname Bad Week McCoy.  I lost my job, I was arrested, and on top of that, the cops confiscated my whole stash, my pipe and my bong.  Hey copper, I don’t have a job – how am I going to replace all that shit?

My point is, I survived. I made it through. I flourished even. I got a new job. I barely missed a beat. More weed appeared in my apartment.  Gotta good deal on a new pipe and bong, and maybe these are even better. I survived. And I’m thinking about this and I realize – the world is completely based on our perception. I can choose to see losing my job as devastating, depressing, or punishable – and I have in the past. But I’m liberated now. I’ve set myself free. I’m untethered and the only person left in the world to impress or satisfy is me. And here’s the kicker – I don’t give a shit that I lost my job. It clearly isn’t a big deal. In the past I would’ve beaten myself to fragments. This time, I just packed a bowl and let it ride. I listened to music and cooked myself dinner and went to the museum. I enjoyed the sunshine. I was grateful for the break. My fresh start is officially official – I’m in a new apartment, I’m starting a new job.  I choose to perceive this situation, this life, in a new way. This time, I see myself as strong and empowered, pursuing my personal legend.

I just finished reading The Alchemist and the concept “Once you make a decision, the universe conspires to make it happen” repeats throughout the book. I feel very comforted by that. And weirdly, comforted for having been booted from my job. The universe is showing me a new path, opening a new door. Well, maybe it’s more of a window; it’s a way out, but it’s not the most comfortable situation it could have been. Either way, I’ve been given a gift!

The universe is trying to tell me that what I’m doing is exactly right. I’m on the right path. I finally feel like my heart and my mind are aligned with each other and the world. I am giving and receiving the energy flow of the world. I was unknowingly communicating with my energy and my actions what I truly wanted – which was to be gone from that place. It’s just a restaurant. It’s just a job. It was holding me back. It was keeping me comfortable and lazy.

Thank you universe for all that you have given me. I prosper. The world is on my side.  We are all one.

Hello, Procrastination.

"Life is far too important a thing ever to talk seriously about. "

I haven’t written anything in a while – I’m long over due for a blog post. Here’s why all the procrastination:

First, I procrastinated because I didn’t know what to write. I didn’t want to write about losing my job and every thing else seemed pretty bleak and abysmal –not great adjectives for potential writing subjects, unless of course you’re Edgar Allen Poe or Tim Burton or Bret Easton Ellis. Let’s face it though, you’re not. And I’m not. So I didn’t write.

Secondly, I further procrastinated because the deadline for a new blog was coming Apparently, I promised myself they’d come up every Thursday. And they will. If I get around to them. Otherwise, they may come up on a Monday or Tuesday, or some day of the week on which the moon and my menstrual cycle are in alignment and I can function like a normal person. I cave at deadlines. They make me cranky, anxious and stubborn. Fuck you deadline! I DARE you to actually make me do any work! .. is something I might think as a deadline approaches.

Thirdly, I procrastinated because I started to doubt myself and get insecure about my work. I thought, nobody cares if it goes up on Thursday, or next Tuesday or never because no one is really reading this. And that’s true. But I think it’s important to always challenge yourself and do things you promised you would do. My counter thingy says that 900 something people have checked out this blog. I don’t know what they’ve read – since no one seems to leave comments AHEM –  but maybe they’ll read this blog about procrastinating and they will subscribe. And I will be their favorite person ever and they will tell all their friends about me and overnight I will become a huge sensation. Or they will think about doing that and get around to it later. Like I would.

Fourthly, fourth, so on and so fourth, I got a job and then I couldn’t write because I was happy again. On top of that, I had a bunch of awesome auditions this week and a really fun weekend with some friends. So I wasn’t around to write because I was out, in the world, trying to experience my life! If I don’t experience and enjoy life, what on earth will I write about?

And fifthly (try saying that fifth times fast), I didn't write because I was high. I know what you're thinking - write WHILE you're high. Well, I usually do. I usually do everything high. I'm usually high. But this week I discovered Tostito's Creamy Spinach dip. That plus chips have been taking up both of my hands which I need to type. Blame it on God for not giving me enough hands to snack and write. 

So there. Now this is done. Can I get back to watching The Shield already? As lame as it is, at least this takes away the pressure and the guilt of being overdue for last Thursday’s blog. Now maybe the next one can be the amazingly genius blog that I want it to be. Oh fuck.. it’s Thursday again in three days.  

And also, a song. Just for funsies :D

Pothead Reflection