Coping with death

I want to view my thoughts as separate compartmentalized beings like a hotel room, just a temporary visit that’s not really mine. Each room a different thought, feeling. I open a door and decide to be surrounded by the thoughts that accompany the room. The art on the walls are the memories. I look at each one and see my family, my friends, and my self. Each piece significant. Some separate, some together. One painting is dark. I see pain in each brush stroke. Another is a motion captured: blurry and light. There is not one painting with clear exact focus, just jumbles of people and objects and places.  This room is separate from all the other rooms. I walk into another. It’s clean and organized. The furniture is simple. A light on the desk. A bed made. The picture on the wall is a black and white photograph. Its defined and in focus. Its clear with its boundaries and borders. It’s my retreat from the other rooms. Someone educated and logical stays in this room. I am organized and planned when I’m here. I want to stay but all of my belongings are in that other room so I have to leave. My belongings are in the room with the unmade bed and the curtains are covering the light and I can barely see the art on the walls because it’s too dark. I don’t want to clean my room or organize or let go; I want to visit the rooms that are clean and pretend I live there.

The Yellow Dogs

Last night we were at Culture Collide enjoying music from one bar to the next. We had a mini break by the car when we saw a van reminiscent of Scooby Doo creep up slowly. The driver asks if we know where a motel is around here. They are musicians from a band called Yellow Dogs. A quick Wiki search said they were exiled from Iran due to fame from a documentary called "No One Knows About Persian Cats". There is a big illegal underground music scene there. They've been in New York for a couple of years and are now touring. We threw in a casual invitation to stay at our place, with me excitedly calling, "Yeah! Pancakes tomorrow". I saw a few excited eyes. A couple hours later, a band, and some dancing, we get a call. The next morning we are all talking stories and eating pancakes. Might I add, they were the most polite and well-mannered Indie rock band we've ever hosted. MTV iggy link

A Little Bit of Portland

A movie? We decide on Crazy Heart with Jeff Bridges. at the Hollywood Theater where they don't need to serve beer to make you feel a little topsy turvey. You must walk through arched hallways over uneven inclined floors, but $1 tea and $6 movie ticket make up for the faux drunken feel and bad seats.

The movie will leave you feeling like having a whiskey or never touching alcohol again. We opt for the whiskey at Swift, a lounge bar, and the bartender/coowner serves us an Old Fashion and a freaking mouth watering black cherry. I have him write down the name for me: Amarena Cherry. Amazing! Great conversation and groove music.

Morning and some Dutch Baby (apple pancake!)

"Would you like the lion plate or the cock plate for your dutch baby?" she asks. "I'd like some cock please"

Me: "There's no way a seagull can eat a tube sock"

Emily: I saw it happen."

M: "Wait how old were you?"

Em: "I was little"

M: "Sounds like a fabricated memory to me."

Em: "Okay if my mom remembers it then it was real, if she doesn't then it was fabricated."

M: "Fine."

E: "What's the bet? How about cupcakes?"

M: "Deal!"

Later we listen to Wax Fingers at Rotture. Emily and Alex show off some of their Swing skills. Later, I ask Alex what he thinks about the sea gull's ability.

A: "Well, if we can't do it then, no."

E: "Seagulls are amazing and weird creatures."

A: "Weird, yes! Amazing eehhhhehh. It would choke."

(hahaha Emily!)

We attempt VooDoo's. They were sold out. Alex said they weren't that great anyway, (this coming from the guy who re-chews gum that falls on the bar floor). We go to Hawthorne where there are midnight dining trailers. Emily and I hit up the Perierra crepe cart. Their menu opens my world to crepes! We order one sweet and a savory: prosciutto, fig, chevre and honey. So good! The Dulce de Leche and sea salt shake sounded really good too! Oh! There's just not enough time!

I lost three times after I scratched out three Lucky Bug lottery tickets. I don't even believe in the lotto, but ever since Reyna gave me three lottos for my birthday and one was a $3 winner, the what ifs happened in my head. What if I won, what if I got three $100s in a row, what if I won a couple more bucks to buy candy I would never eat? With my three dollar winning, instead of cashing, I got three more lottery tickets, and I hoarded them in my room, with the thought, "well if I save them, if I think on them, if I wait till the right moment, then I will surely win through my patience, and will to withhold." Here I sit, with the right feeling; enough time has passed, and I scratch each section with the hope and vigor of a child looking through the glass of a toy store during Christmas, and yet with all of the proper ritual I obtain absolutely nothing, and I here I sit reassured that luck isn't found but is created.

I knew I found the girls when I saw black feathers on the floor of the hospital. I dressed up as a black widow. None of the nurses grasped the irony. We attempted Jack-in-the-Box on the way to the club but it was closed 20 min. early. Grace gave Corporate hell and we got to complain to Jack himself.

We did whale calls which was actually the long version of the word badunkadunk for the entertainment of a friend who was responding to a whale call text on the phone. Meanwhile, Farima comes in, eyes wondering and says, "My people," and hence a new friendship is formed

Wine Tasting

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Originally uploaded by butterflyseekshoney

Elise is getting married. We rented a house in Santa Ynez, and soaked in the sun and danced to music and went wine tasting the next day. It sounds safe enough right? How then, I ask, did we end up with sore feet and bruises? Ha fun times!