10 days back in LA ≈ 240 hours ≈ 14400 minutes 2 shows 1 cavity 5 packs of cigarettes 12 cocktails 2 bottles of wine 5 vicodin pills 1 oil change 2 bars 1 job offer 1 apartment to sublet from may to august 1 boyfriend to convince to move with me 4 new friends 2 dinners with mom 1 eye appointment 1 facial 1 hat 4 dresses 3 tops 2 skirts 1 pair of shorts 4 loads of laundry 1 yoga class 3 sushi places 2 late night IM conversations with Andy 9 late night phone calls with Steve 8 mornings waking up alone (i slept over at Lauren's one night) 1 girls night 1 book 1 conversation with my dad 2 paintings donated by Lauren 2 days in Santa Barbara 3 celebrity sightings 1 burger king commercial filmed at my house lots of time with emily lots of time at the cafe lots of tivo lots of amy winehouse lots of lcd soundsystem too many hours driving too many hours driving in traffic too much money spent on gas
one girl whose happy to be back in santa cruz one girl who misses LA (hint: it's the same girl)
thank god i'm not bitter or the fact that Aurora (sleeping beauty) was sixteen when she met her prince charming would make me sick. ok so it took me 3 more years. at least i didn't have to prick my finger.
I had a dream last night that there was a parade going on in Santa Cruz. The floats were all grotesque characateurs of the personalities you find on Pacific. I was sitting in the shade under a big tree and four of my friends from home came up, mostly friends from junior high. I took them around the town and with each person we ran into it became more and more like Alice and Wonderland. There was the caterpillar, the chesire cat, the mad hatter, the duchess, the queen of hearts (in my dream it was the jack of hearts). Each character was one of my friends and though no one acted too out of character the parallels were hardly subtle. The white rabbit was there, but much less elusive. It was still mysterious but it was practically chasing me begging me to solve the mystery. It ended with the sound of me getting a phone call which woke me up.
It's a huge game of chess that's being played, though of course I should like to be a Queen, best, I began to remember I was a Pawn, and that it would soon be time for me to move.
my mom came into town. she asked me what i had been up to. after ten minutes she stopped me. she said "we can talk about what your friends are doing later, what have you been doing?" i couldn't answer.
I'm not one of those people who considers making drama something to do during free hours. In fact I consider keeping out of drama something to do. Finding myself in the middle of a dramatic situation I am completely miserable. I read enough gossip magazines to understand that drama is something that people create when they are bored (and have too much money according to In Touch and Us Weekly). I need people to stop dragging me into things.
I tried last time but next time he needs to just let me beat him up and get this over with.
I just want to listen to stories and tell them. I don't want to be a part of it, unless it's the great American novel.
And off I go... another party, another situation to stay out of.
when I was a kid and all the girls my age were in love with one of the Hanson brothers or some guy from a boy band, I had a crush on Thom Yorke. something about the twitchy eye that hinted to the psychosis inside.
today i lived the sweet life. my dreams have been so good recently, full of scandal and swindle. three more days and i'm throwing myself back into the pool with lousiana acid kings, rock star actors, intellectuals who weld and anarchists with sweet smiles. time to bring some of that scandal to my waking life.
I hate to make a Sex & The City reference but it's very fitting. There is one episode where Carrie's boyfriend breaks up with her and that night she goes out with her friends in hopes that something will happen so she won't have to remember that day as the day she was dumped. She ends up almost getting arrested for smoking pot and that day becomes "the day i got arrested for smoking a doobie". That was me tonight, or last night I guess it would be now. If it hadn't been my birthday I would be completely content staying home but the idea of looking back on it and not having a good story was enough to make me get out of the house. I'm glad I did because I had a really good time. When the clock hit midnight and it was no longer my birthday I could breathe a sigh of relief. Nineteen is a silly age anyways.
Maybe i'm just killing time until the day I'm at a phone booth somewhere in West Java, with one hand over the ear not pressed against the reciever, trying to block out the noise of Adu Domba play behind me as I balance a paper package full of nasi goreng on my suitcase and leave a loaded message on the voice mail of my boring, bourgeois, unresponse Wall-Street husband, "I'm not coming back, I'm an ex-pat now. I'm sorry but I will never leave Indonesia."
Or maybe it's this fever and all the Travel Channel I've been watching as I wait to feel better.
I hate it when people put up their dumb conversations with friends. This conversation is not dumb, well yes it is.
me: ok so getting a plant, good idea? bad idea? jordan: yes very good idea me: i think a good one. so that other people can see how my mental health is based on the plant jordan: very zen like and gives you subconcious company me: score. ok, plant it is then. jordan: i recommend a potted banana tree they are really cool. they will get just tall enough too me: i'm thinking a hanging plant. i need it to grow down 'cause i'm putting it on a shelf that's really high up jordan: ooooo you should totally go carnivorous. i used to have one in my shower and you can stick a pinky finger down in the bulb and they close on you and it tickles me: that's scary i might freak out jordan: you could just do a fern they are nice me: yeah i dunno. i gotta look around a little. do some selective plant shopping. can't be rushed on these type of things jordan: its kinda like a cat, except it's a plant. you gotta find the one that blinks weird me: i think you just figured me out.
i'm really tired of thwarting advances for no good reason. i'm really tired of being put in situations where i have to thwart advances for no good reason. i really am tired of dating/being around/flirting with 29-38 year olds. i'm really tired of realizing that the babies in diaper ads will one day be my competition. i'm really sick of thinking about how he's only 23, doesn't care about much and makes me fumble over my words. i'm really sick of knowing he's 100 ft away but i'm too scared to drop by unannounced. i'm really sick of waiting for him to drop by unannounced. i'm really sick of thinking about his laughter lines. i'm really sick of pretending i don't know who he is. i'm really sick of knowing that i'm not ready for this even though it will never happen.
a record contract, a nice house in silverlake, cool boots, hipster clout, when did these stop impressing me?
well thank god they did. i just want to get back to santa cruz.