disappointment reigns

"with rocks in my dress/and smoke in my hair/I walked into a lake/to get some sleep down in there." -Sparklehorse, because, readers, water is honest.

'This Train Don't Stop There Anymore' by Elton John, because i'd like to think i'm getting to the point where i know better and can not only say "No" with conviction, but say it with a kick in the groin, too.

no movie to reference today.  am not feelin' it.

i'll just leave you with this, if you don't mind too much.

a heavy mother's armpits that

smell of chive flowers;

she speaks what sounds like a 

positive blip or, the opposite of motherhood.

a name overheard that 

recalls water.  all the stories it could tell or,

the opposite of the world.

something sparkling, a sugar cube

dissolving secrets on two tongues,

rowing to the middle of a lake

to douse the magnificence or, the opposite

of baptism.

presents of skin, warm like the sidewalk

holding up the head of one who decides

that memories are too much responsibility.

thanks for reading. fin.

7 years

When it dies I go to the same

            hardware store

            twist in another

                yellow bulb

      so you can be sure of

            which house

                in case

             you decide

        to come back.

two different fellas. two kinds of jobs.

"Only way to guarantee an outcome, honey, is contracting to be fucked.  Everything else is chance."  -Elizabeth Sarnoff.  Hats off to Liz for putting the truth to poetry.

'Typical Situation' by Dave Matthews Band, because the lyrics are understated but Dave is a master at growling and making me feel urgent.  and if you know me, you know i like the sound of urgency.

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, because O.MY.GAWD it was a beautiful story full of ethical questions and quandaries from beginning to end.  AND:  Roger Deakins is cinematographer extraordinaire.  the man is golden.  not to mention that Casey Affleck proves he's an actor- complete and total.  kid's got chops uh huh.

hiya gang.  pull up a drink and sit for a spell.

when's the last time you drank grape juice?  i know, me too!  i just bought some frozen grape juice from concentrate (not grape drink a la Dave Chappelle) so you know what that means:  grape juice and vodka!  i'm sipping it as i type.  

ok, so let me relay to you my observations from yesterday.  nothing fancy or photo-worthy, just more reasons to be vexed by this crazy town of mine.  i'll start with a little fella i'll name Mr. Dis Orient.  on my way back from the hospital, i happened upon an elderly gentleman on the corner of bush and octavia. he was holding a piece of paper with chinese writing on it.  he motioned to me and it was apparent that he was lost.  he could only say "i speak no english".  he needed to go 3 blocks north, judging by the address written on the paper. so i motioned as much and said "i'll take you. come with me." but he insisted that it was south- that i was wrong. then he said, "you call".  so i called the number on the paper and it was a restaurant- apparently the man was supposed to go there for a job as a dishwasher.  i told the gal on the other end  (she spoke chinese)to please tell the fella to come with me.  she asked, "who are you?" and i said, "i don't know!"  baahahahah.  seriously, i was this close to just picking the little guy up and carrying him there piggyback-like.  about 10 minutes later, he resigned himself to follow me and ended up apologizing all the way to the restaurant for being lost.  i know he didn't understand what i said, but i said it was alright, that i'd spent my whole life getting lost, in fact i still don't know who i am or what i'm going to do with my life but i like helping people, and little kids who aren't mine and animals and that someday i hope to be married and living in the country with a house that has a big kitchen and a fireplace and maybe a garden with radishes and definitely tomatoes, and that whatever i ended up doing for work that i hoped i could work from home so that i could drink as much vodka as i wanted without worrying about having a hangover at the office.  we bid each other farewell and i walked home wondering how the heck i was gonna pay for that hospital visit.

on my way TO the hospital, not so much...walking down post street i noticed a car parked facing the wrong direction in front of a driveway of an empty walgreen's.  then i saw a silhouette behind what looked like a map or something.  so i figured it was someone who had pulled over to find out where s/he was headed (join the club- it's all about discovery these days, huh kids?).  i got closer and saw that it was a security guard- i could tell by the little uniform.  i got even closer and realized that he had one hand out the open car window, and the other hand...was vigorously shifting his gear/fumbling with his key/sparking his plug. 

readers dear readers, i want to know:  is it really that urgent?  remember what i said up there about liking the sound of urgency?  NOT what i meant. can you not wait until you get home, or at least on the freeway, until you rub one out?? ok, he's a security guard and being a security guard is boring, but...christ on a cracker! do a crossword puzzle! 

anyway. the security guard at the empty walgreen's on post street is right-handed.

thanks for playing.  cheers. fin.

elevate, don't expectorate

"In the market, the wood carvings and pearls went unbought, and the festively painted Ice Cream Shoppe was always empty." -John Seabrook, because today felt deserted.

'Black Boys on Mopeds' by Sinead O'Connor, because her voice sounds lonesome.  The song is an echo.

Bleu because it's all yearning and resignation and loss and beginnings.  When Juliette Binoche eats the hell out of that blue lollipop it's a moment of cinematic brilliance, not to mention the seamless montage at film's end.

appalling things today.  hi.  pull up a drink. take a load off.

when i feel oogy and wonky, i head to the ocean.  nothing cures the oogies and wonkies like the smell and sound of the ocean.  since this is a city full of character and characters,  ya gotta expect to see some spectacular, nutty, awful things.  nothing oustanding today, but i saw two different women on two sidewalks spit.  just spit.  HWOQ-TOOEY.  one of the women was walking in front of me and very nearly hit my shoe.  look, it's bad enough when men spit, the nasty creatures, but come ON, sisters!!!  can we find another path to equality?  how about raising the bar of behaviors instead of stooping to those of filthy fellas?  the other thing i saw today made me at once nauseous and perturbed.  walking toward me was a trio of pre-teens, two gals and a guy.  they were maybe 12, 13 years old, max.  one of the girls was wearing a Hooters t-shirt.  HOOTERS???!  stop. think about that.  a pre-teen, barely developed, walking around a city of cuckoos and pervies in a t-shirt like that.  o, dear readers. tsk tsk doesn't seem enough of a reaction.  i wanted to shake her.  this got me to thinking about whether or not i'm a prude.  does not having a sense of humor about things like that make me a prude?  does wanting to see women elevate themselves within themselves, amongst themselves without the concern of whether men find them fuck-able make me a prude?  well, then, oki doki.  i've lived long enough to know that if it has legs, guys will pound it.  this includes tables and chairs.  i've also lived long enough to know that if it doesn't have legs, they'll mount it anyway.  being considered fuck-able is not a compliment.  

i said this blog wasn't going to be me ranting, but i guess i can toss that promise out the window.  

thanks for playing.  fin.

~"I hope that I won't be that wrong anymore, but maybe I've learned this time.  I hope that I find what I'm reaching for, the way that it is in my mind...but I won't let it change me, not if I can.  I'd rather believe in love and give it away as much as I can to those that I'm fondest of." -Waylon Jennings, the Cowboy Junkies, because i feel tenderness toward many and  got a lot of love to give

~'Southern Girl' by Incubus, because it's a slow, but urgent invitation to passion

~Year of the Dog with Molly Shannon, because i completely understand her neurosis and applaud the character's every move, laughing.

hey gang.  pull up a drink.  

the state of our nation has got me into a bit of a lather.  i won't go into politics with this...whatsit? blog, 'cause that's private to me.  i vote. i get excited to vote. but i tend to walk away with my hands on my cheeks and shaking my head, fingers crossed.  i couldn't wait to turn 18 so that i could vote.  and i've always voted.  but i'm a cynic.  BUT i'm a hopeful cynic.  politics. 

today, i drove to Colma to pick up Potato's ashes.  very strange.  he's in a box the size of a recipe card holder.  i didn't know what to do. the weather was hot, the way i like it, so we drove.  i had no idea where i was going, not caring when i didn't recognize the neighborhoods, but we ended up at the Golden Gate.  so i parked, pulled his little box out and carried him across the Bridge for one last time.  

may i ask you something???  why the FUCK don't people make an effort to scoot or move when they see you coming?  limited walking space means that you drop back and make room...not so apparently.  i knocked shoulders with no fewer than 8 people today.  i've got my best buddy in a box- don't fucking elbow me.  i guess i was a little sensitive.  i didn't cry!  ok then so i walked back to the rental car, and drove over the bridge because i thought i'd want to go to stinson beach.  i got tired of the twists of the road so decided to make a turn-around when next i could.  turns out it was the pelican inn.  i have certain, sad, thoughts about that place, but i stopped anyhow.  lousy fish n' chips and a glorious smithwick's with my best buddy in a box next to me.  i was this [   ]  close to getting a room there so that i could just drink all nite.  but i've an interview in the city in the morning that i reeeeaaaally want to nail.

this blog has turned extremely boring.  i promise to be less "i" and more "other".  i put myself to sleep.. bless anyone who bothers to read it.

best to you and yours.  cheers,

d - p = 0

sad days.

my angel, my best buddy, my boogie, my captain dirtyfoot.  Potato is gone.

the man i wanted wanted seafood

To the table they brought

unabashed mussels.

"Ha!" he laughed,

"They look

so like puta!"

Half-shell clams

reminded him of home:

"We eat them there, fresh,

still living. You squeeze

and the acid of lemon

makes them squirm like

girls."

Nothing he said during

the octopus salad.

It must have been rubbery,

and I was glad for

the smell of vinegar finally.

the waft of turds

~"It feels so good to be so gone." -Miracle Legion, because i recently left a very bad job and now i'm taking some time to fall in love with my city again.

~'Why Get Up?' by the Fabulous Thunderbirds because they are fabulous and kim wilson makes funny snoring sounds.  makes me laugh everytime. and, hello, jimmie vaughn!

~Waiting for Guffman, because it's absolutely BRILLIANT that christopher guest is wearing a judy tenuta t-shirt.  spot on brilliant.

hello pals!  pull up a drink.  sit for a spell.

i made pancakes from scratch this morning.  my dog, Potato, was v. happy with me.  and i'm making homemade chocolate chip cookies as i type this.  because i can.

back from a weekend in petaluma to visit my sister.  she has a horse named Tequila that is staying at a farm that has goats and ponies and pigs, oh my.  all you have to do is say the word 'goat' to me and watch me light up like a goddamned xmas tree.  i love the little fuckers. so we went to dillon beach with our dogs.  beaches are good for my soul.  i require them.  then we headed to this tiny place called Bloomfield Bees that sells all of these amazin' honey products...on the HONOR system!  can ya beat that?  pick out what you want, leave your money in the jar.

 then we went to the farm. and because my sister rocks, she named one of the piglets Tallulah. i got to say something here: pigs reek.   but here's the deal: i was walking the other day, sun was shining, and i was generally maintaining my love affair with san francisco.  i approached market and hyde and had to start breathing through my mouth.  even that couldn't mask the smell.  it was as if the entire community in that 'hood had gathered and agreed to take a monstrous dump.  ay, papi!  and it smelled just like the piggies.  so i'm wondering if the bad people smell is like the pigs', or if pigs smell like bad people.  i'm not gonna get weird on you, babe, but what is it with this stinkin' town and feces?  

anyhow.  see the pics from my petaluma trip.  i was going to trash on Sex & The City (i wish to gawd that movie would leave town) today, but i'm in too good of a mood.  if you like a good tirade of intolerance, ask me about Sex & The City.  in other words, come back tomorrow.

thanks for playing!

cheers.