bygollymolly

patience, young skywalker

2008-07-30T15:18:00.000-07:00

SORRY FOR THE EONS OF TIME i spend not posting here...it really sucks not being able to talk about nothing, with you, my favorite audience.

that being said, cranking away at the new molly mutt blog, which will surely be fantastical & magnifilous all in one.

back to the other secret, locked up blog that is just itch-itch-itching to get out (clawing like a trapped panther in a usps box.)

later gators,
m

how i learned to stop worrying & love the bomb

2008-07-18T14:08:00.001-07:00

big news on the molly mutt front:
*opened my business checking account
*wrote my first check
*days away from placing my first order! YEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH. and then it will be time for all of you, my nearest & dearest, to sell stuff to everyone you ever knew, in your whole life! more about that very soon...how i am going to use each & every one of you...(as always, insert a really scary, vincent-price-esque laugh here!)

i am happy today, oh so happy today!

all hat & no cattle

2008-07-03T17:28:00.000-07:00

allegedly, this is a phrase we use in texas to describe an individual that is all talk and no action...

i lived in texas for 22 years. in houston. i never heard this saying even once. but the fact that this phraseology even exists makes my day.

back to work, as i don't want to be all hat & no cattle. (well played, mols)

danger is my middle name

2008-06-29T17:20:00.000-07:00

went to a david sedaris reading on friday night.
top drawer.
& yes, that is his signature at left, and a picture of a turtle.
radio gold.

*please note, i am not going to post for every picture a day-it's too much pressure & i won't ever live up to that level of commitment...a post AND a picture a day...yeah, right. The Project images can always be found by clicking astronomically amazing astroboy in the upper left corner, anytime your heart desires.

off to finish reading my new book.

effulgently ebullient

2008-06-25T17:06:00.000-07:00

guess who got a new/vintage (yes, this is possible) polaroid land camera from her friend hao??

and who, on the same day got 10 packs of film from her mom?

that would be me.

today deserves 2 pictures. i can't choose between them.

happy me!

and i, the gift-giver, am humbled.

(standing ovation for mom & hao)

quick question:
is it lame to use fantastic vocabulary words in everyday writing/speaking when the majority of people will have, at best, only a slight-idea as to its meaning? is it pretentious to do this? or is it worse that when you do have that one great SAT word (let's say "insouciance" or "inimitable") in the most fitting of occasions, you don't use it, because you know those around you are small minded nitwits who will make fun & "ohhh la la" your endeavor? is it worse to be pretentious or dragged down to the depths of lolcat & sms-speak? ayn rand would certainly say the latter is the more abysmal choice. i'm with her.

(ps, this was all brought on because i heard "gravitas" three times, in one day.)

scalper (& no, i don't mean of tickets). insert scary laugh here.

2008-06-24T21:35:00.000-07:00

day 2, The Project

i was really torn as to what to post as today's glimpse into my "life".

("life" in quotations-not an accident. another very obviously emo shout out implying an ocean of boredom. wait, wait. "...a sea of ennui." BETTER, now i am sound avuncular & kind of bourgeois. top drawer.)

this was the weirder picture. there you go.

cacophony-great word. am going to find probably not-so-subtle ways to use this gem more often. when said aloud, the sound Is the meaning. (i am very philosophical tonight, apparently. let's chalk it up to how my hands are yet again frozen, sitting at my desk, surrounded by 3 very-poorly-if-at-all insulated windows. that sentence alone took 476 minutes to type.)
ok, ladies & worms. going back to my book & cropping pictures for work. nothing spells excitement like a night with the moll. gun moll.

a picture a day-23.june.08

2008-06-23T23:51:00.000-07:00

day one.
so we'll see if this lasts, as tonight, trying to figure out what to take a picture of @ almost-midnight was kind of tricksy.

i am writing this on the 24th-and all day today, officially day two of The Project, i have actually thought about what today's picture should be-thus giving a regular tuesday a whole new look. yes, this means lugging my fat camera everywhere, but hopefully it will be insightful, however long it lasts. (obviously i am not holding out hope that this will actually last all year-no reason to set myself up for disappointment. i also think probably half the photos will end up being my dogs sleeping in their beds, as i will undoubtedly have forgotten to take a picture all day. again, we'll see.)

for those music-toads-like-me out there, ratatat (a little electronic, a lot of awesome-try "crips" or "el pico") & lykke li (start with "i'm good, i'm gone" or "little bit"). that's all i have to say.

i need to fix my monkey

2008-06-23T15:51:00.000-07:00

sounds dirty.
it really isn't.

i need a damn rubber washer to fix my kay bojesen monkey-and none of the poser ones charlie & i found worked-not even the one i stole.

boo.

ninja on the lawn

2008-06-22T13:47:00.000-07:00

i've obviously taken off the month of june.
stay tuned for more greatness sometime soon.

(what's coming next is top drawer.)

reflections on a post-modern society

2008-06-04T01:57:00.000-07:00

or "why i hate san francisco public transportation."

decided to let the green infiltrate my soul & not, i repeat, NOT drive my car to the castro where i needed to pick up prints-but instead take muni.

i wanted to really try my hand at not consuming/expending so much energy & gas. all the ads & radio spots & large, alien recycle bins finally worked to make me aware of my carbon footprint, blah blah blah.

reader, please note. i love public transportation in other cities-the metro, subway, the T, MTR, metropolitan-all of these are great systems that make it possible to easily get from point a to where ever you're going much quicker & much more efficiently than on foot. sf muni is like none of these systems.

i digress.

so i get on muni. going about 15 blocks. in theory, i always loved the idea of sf muni trains-they're kind of retro, and look awesome tooling up & down market street.

worst 25 minutes of my life. & i had to do it twice. there & back. the city was really showing its dirty butthole without any attempt to mask the stench. i can't even begin to describe...the horror, the horror.

in a nutshell:
*psychotic asian woman screaming obscenities at the very overweight woman in a wheelchair that slowed down the already tortuously crawling train. this woman shouted awful things-as if the appointment she had to get an even less-natural colour glued in 3" strips on her forehead as a stand-in for eyebrows was so so so so so urgent. it almost came to blows, as everyone else in the rail car was mortified that this woman was being such a dick...or were we all horrified that she even existed? shorthand lesson? crack. kills.

*not to be outdone by nutter lady, we had at least 3 of the foulest smelling MFs on the planet dispersed throughout. this was to create a united front of an odor so powerful, it melted the brakes of our little F-Market train. at one point, i am fairly certain i opened the cap to a sharpie & shoved it in my nose. there was sadly no alternative.

*on the ding-ding trolley back to union square, a fight of epic proportions almost broke out between 2 homeless madamoiselles. one of them was totally cracked out & trying to befriend this vitriolic big lady. the big lady did not like this. she finally backs down & begins to talk chummily about free breakfasts with fat sausages & grits that can be obtained after "group." my stop finally is nearing when the big lady starts shouting about how ted kennedy had an illegitimate black daughter in kentucky that was involved in racketeering. (?) she then starts on a vociferous rant on how mr. kennedy's current medical condition is dominating the news & getting on her damn nerves. (commentary here is just too easy)

as i stepped off the train into the sunshine, i came to three conclusions:

1. san francisco public transportation? not so much.

2. though i have lived here for 6+ years, i am just starting to realize this place has a SERIOUS homeless problem. gavin, stop greasing your fucking hair & do something.

3. hungry around 10am monday-friday? i know a place that serves a kick ass breakfast. obligatory 1 hour "discussion" prior to the meal is required.

cupcakes are muffins. in drag.

2008-05-30T14:32:00.001-07:00

i wish i could take credit for this.
oh god, do i wish it was mine...(sigh).

i want to try & stay positive (for the kids).

criticism, competition & cutlery turn the sky blue.

mr. waffle pants. (name of a friend's cat).

all indie band names should include punctuation, which should be further defined as including only the following:
? ! , . () ... " & + (and maybe the *...i haven't decided yet).

the following punctuation should not be allowed in anything other than instant or sms messaging:
@ # $ % ^ =

and the following should not be included because they are the most boring of all punctuation (& should remain in the html world where they belong):
: ; {} [] - _ <>

a few phrases to try & slip into your positively raging weekend (taken from various conversations both real & imaginary):
*take the danger & put in the bank.
*fortune cookie hour is over.
*fake a seizure. that always works for me.
*adopt a less marital tone.
*the only things we had going for us were smooth thighs & a tenacity from being naive.
*clearly we made emo, dark soul sharing plans for tonight
and those trump this event. i just wanted to put it out
there in case you want to glam it up a bit.
*yep, still in the city...can't figure out where i would live after this...the mountains...the ocean...the democrats. its a good place for me.
*stay cool. alas, that will not be possible in the surface-of-mars biome you are currently inhabiting. (& the science talk?? apparently someone is listening to way too much NPR.)
*the white people are melting.

it's friday...can you tell from the nonsensical banter & mindless, unfocused drivel? am i writing just to write? (yes, yes, obviously yes).

see you in june, suckahs.

inflated sense of self & top-heavy egos

2008-05-27T03:01:00.000-07:00

(line stolen from chuck...i couldn't help it)

going to see ladytron. happy as clam (why, again, are clams supposedly so carefree & giggly-girl-glad? this seems perverse. from what i've heard about these mollusks, the life of a clam is nothing short of boring, cold & crappy. they don't even have a face.) (reader, please note, i have no idea what i am talking about in the world of biology & one if not all of the "fact-of-a-clam" statements above are undoubtedly false. sadly, i have neither the time nor the interest in looking up clams on wikipedia. please feel free to further research this topic @ your leisure.)

LADYTRON.

(with a subdued shout-out to the underappreciated clam).

(oh, & i finally finished banksy's flowers on amy's deck...it only took 20 minutes-not really sure why i procrastinated for 20 weeks...)

limeade slushes & holding the door open

2008-05-22T12:02:00.000-07:00

or
a reflection on growing up in the south

*the reader should note the writer Does Indeed recognize the difference between the deep south & texas. there are pertinent & important differences that can & should be elaborated on by someone (not me). but for the sake of this "piece", the author will call texas "the south"...be able to handle it, as we reserve the right to refuse service to anyone.

so, with the old job, i used to go to arkansas at least a few times a year-and i was always surprised how driving out of the airport & seeing fields of cows & open space made me kinda smirk-y. i wouldn't have expected it, as i rarely go to home, and don't visit texas unless on a transfer flight (sorry mom). this is not an accident. i left my home state in a whirlwind of rancor & angst...never quite feeling right about it & never accepting my time there as anything other than a prison sentence. when i packed up my uhaul & finally got out, all i could remember was how i loathed every last detail.

so why the clandestine smiles when i get back to the south? am i repressing pleasant memories? do i (gasp) actually like things about growing up white in america?

i think the change first starts to get my attention when i am putting my carryon into the overhead. i go to slug my 80 lb (clearly surpassing the weight limit) suitcase & i feel it lighten immediately... wtf??!? my suspicion increases...i start to think for whole seconds that all of my shit has been siphoned through the torn front pocket...when all of sudden-BAM. i get it. that guy 14 rows back saw little ole me lifting something other than a fan or sweet tea to my lipsticked lips...and ran up to help me.

chivalry.

oh yeah...that was that thing where guys help girls out. scary feminist take these symbolic gestures as signs of an overriding socialized bias of female fraility. no, no, no. i always took the door being opened for me, being the first to leave the elevator & help with heavy things as just fan-fucking-tastic. i forgot about these southern men & their manners & how warm my blushing cheeks feel.

i like that.

i become more wide-eyed as i am greeted by the first stranger walking opposite me in the airport terminal. "how're you doin' t'day?". it always takes me 3 or 4 of these interactions before i remember this is what people who don't know one another do. oh yeah-and everyone makes eye contact. especially the opposite sex. age, race, amount of botox...it doesn't matter. you make eye contact. oh, and you smile. that's a big part. (i recall my very-different-opinion of this behavior when i left the state many years ago...all this namby-pamby smiling...because these southern smiling idiots are silly-headed ninnymuggins. with cotton between their ears.)

now i'm all dopey smiling back.

more later on this topic, gotta stand in line for mr. plane.

regnat populus

2008-05-20T16:12:00.000-07:00

hotter than a really bad metaphor for something warm-like a gnat's ass or hell or fill-in-the-blank.

yes. it is hotter than any crap analogy.

h.
o.
t.

i must say, however, even though i have scrubbed all southern twang from my voice, as well as all tragic texas social tenets...there is something comforting about a town surrounded by fast food, walmart & gas stations with 60 oz. beverages. you don't get that in california.

my hand is a parking cone; my head is my head

2008-05-14T18:58:00.000-07:00

first of all, xenophobia is spelled with an "x" not a "z"...another tricky bit about the english language...an "x" is a sub for the "z" sound, occasionally. just for funsies. we like to throw this in for immigrants & foreigners-to keep them guessing. our gift to the world.

(insert aggravated, disgruntled sighing here).

trying to get my imovie skills up & running again (those same talents that brought you the "ana's birthday" extravaganza)-it's all about the soundtrack & narration...and since i am apparently never going to get my voice back, my voice as The Voice sounds like an old 3-pack-a-day-hag (or grandma ruth, whatev). maybe this will work in my favor? keep your radio dial on this station.

beautiful, oh-so-gorgeous day in the city. can't complain (which is shocking me into numb fingers & nothing to say...as without something to get agro about, i am painfully boring).

off to work.

*ps
what i would have said-part 1
today, met a very talented girl (please note everyone under the age of 100 is a "girl" to me, not a "woman" which sounds manny) who said when discussing that she was a vegan (background story, i said..."i couldn't do that! i drink a gallon of milk a day")-she says "we are the only species that drinks milk". which is true.
i wish, however, that i had been witty enough to say "and we are also the only species that drives cars & has banks & puts on false eyelashes." alas, i thought of this brilliant comeback 3 hours post-conversation.
tragic.

xenophobia is not hot

2008-05-07T22:21:00.000-07:00

(saying "hot" has expired.
but "not hot" is totally acceptable.)

i digress.

myanmar cyclone? depressing.
aid workers getting their plane turned around because the government is suspicious? really fucking dumb.

you're not a man 'til you've pulled a tooth out with a pair of pliers.

2008-05-06T12:14:00.000-07:00

captain john hillstrand of the time bandit.

*fishes for crab 6 months out of the year.
*8" tall crab tattoo on his arm.
*smokes 476 cigarettes a day.
*wears his USA jacket like skin.
*fell into the water because too drunk to get to the boat.

people, this is a family show. gather the younglings around & embrace the magic of deadliest catch. as capt. john said "we'd rather be lucky than good any day..." if that's not foreshadowing greatness, i don't know what is.

bad to the bone.

into the light of a dark black night

2008-05-01T23:02:00.000-07:00

blackbird fly...

yeah, so i've probably listened to this song 4,076 times. some of my earliest musical memories (rubber soul & white album, disc 1 will forever be tied to saturday cleaning...that awful/yet-strangely-comforting-routine we engaged in every saturday morning...sweeping, dusting, all the gross chores...and the beatles crooning somewhere in the background.)

it wasn't until the 4,053 playing of "blackbird" that i realized the bird chirping was actually in the track. i honestly thought it was either a very fortuitous coincidence or only in my head. i never said anything because i thought if i was the only one that heard it-this would be proof of my being the mayor of crazytown.

i think i was 27 when i finally figured it out.

wow.

oh, which reminds of the time i swear to god there were aliens landing outside my bedroom. all night long. i kept trying to convince myself it was something else...anything else-but it couldn't be denied. the sound was exactly the same spaceship-landing noise i had heard in the day the earth stood still.

i had to get out of bed...run to the parents' room...for my own safety & really to save the whole family from what was sure to be inevitable extra-terrestrial invasion & body snatching. i just had to force myself out of bed. i could feel the sweat beading up on my forehead. my joints felt stiff & paralyzed...(these creatures were pretty fucking brilliant-being able to control my body from the backyard). i couldn't swallow. i felt like my pillow case had covered my tongue & i had ingested orange shag carpet. i couldn't scream...

get out of bed molly, cmon, save the earth, save the family, don't close your eyes, they are waiting for you to close your eyes, throw your legs off the bed, this is your chance...

it was a bullfrog mating song-i found out after bursting like a banshee into my parents' bedroom, wide-eyed, hair all over the place, sweating & panting & screaming...

a bullfrog mating song.

& a blackbird.

love in the time of the bubonic plague

2008-04-30T12:55:00.001-07:00

who gives a shit about miley cyrus? really?? hannah motherf*cking-tana.
i mean...really?

vanity fair, notorious for borderline sexy pictures...with annie leibowitz at the helm, and we are shocked to see a 15 year old draped in a sheet...hmmm....this girl's father once sang "don't break my achy breaky heart." this picture is a step up from the mullets in this girl's genetic makeup. if anything, i think she looks kind of homeless with chapped lips...nothing to throw the book at.

i really couldn't care less. the only thing that bugs is the outrage-the moral vomit that has surfaced as a result. people, get jobs. find a hobby. go stand in traffic somewhere & cry, cry, cry about how the country is on a one-way trip to hell.

i'll be sitting first class, thank you very much.

ambiguous anathemas

2008-04-28T23:55:00.000-07:00

here's the thing.
(as if there could ever really only be one thing. pffffttt)

let's rock a scenario-which you have heard, seen, read & experienced countless times.

who: 2 friends-let's call them madeleine (but we'll call her maddy) & oliver, just for kicks
what: in a conversation
where: irrelevant
prologue
let's assume our 2 friendsies are talking about something...oh, i don't know...going out to dinner, or meeting up, or calling when you said you would, la-la-la. let's say oliver just said he wanted to bail & do something else with his friends-or maybe he just wants to sleep. whatever.

the story
oliver looks kind of pained, braced for what he's sure will be an angry response, "are you sure it's fine?"
maddy looks him dead in the eye, "no, no, not a big deal."

conclusion
maddy goes home, or hangs up the phone, or walks away-and oliver imagines all is legit. he heard "NOT A BIG DEAL"-so that clearly meant he was off the hook, all was forgiven & little top-hatted leprechauns dance an irish jig just on the other side of the rainbow, guarding a pot of gold.
oh, simple, simple oliver.
maddy will spit nails for minutes, hours, days over the entire interchange. i mean doesn't EVERYONE know that "not a big deal" really means "you better fix this in a HUGE way, um, immediately.??"

this is girl 101. it applies to friends, lovers & whores.

evolve, boys, evolve.

the last frontier

2008-04-09T21:07:00.001-07:00

i've arrived.
the state that brought us "into the wild" & "white fang".

my first observations of anchorage:
*cold
*silent as the grave (my talking on the phone was the loudest sound for miles & miles-at one point i guffawed & am certain i heard the entire town gasp.)
*cold
*so many gift shops i can't even begin to relay the scope & magnitude...(my favorite store-"once in a blue moose"...no, not kidding.)
*internet slower than dial-up
*officially, the edge of the earth. i would try to sell this idea to you, but will rely instead on my mad photography skillz to capture the scene in the upcoming days.
*it is 9pm & brighter than noon in the city (not exaggerating).
*if my mom doesn't get here soon, i am likely to blind myself staring at the snow flurries

(reader, please note, i am blogging NOT because i am unable to be in the moment...i am waiting the arrival of the mom, and have nothing to do, other than watch crap tv, stand in the snow storm, or hunt for an elk to mount on a wall...which i may do, if i can't think of anything else to say.)

oh the places we will go...

night night, from alaska.

tonight, tonight

2008-04-05T22:02:00.000-07:00

sitting in my kitchen (surpress the urge to faint, thanks, those of you that know i subsist entirely on trader joe's frosted mini wheats, avocado toast & havarti cheese with carr's crackers...i appreciate your faith in me)...listening to miles davis' "love songs" (the emo-ness is showing on the outside now-just...terrible)...simultaneously trying to write a post (which i haven't in 2+ weeks, wtf) & look up random crap that keeps making cameos in my head-for instance i started trying to type & wrote the letter "t" about 3 times-finger resting on the key for too long-and this reminded me of the 1980's icon max headroom so i had to look him up for 12 hours (thank you modern technology totally ruining any chance i had at being not-ADD)...using fabulous wireless technology to broadcast to you, my loyal & unbelievably eclectic fans.

thank you, computers & red wine. i salute you.

nothing especially brilliant to pass along. just had to write something (aka "nothing"). in the case of this web log-i just needed to write so i know i am still alive.

stay tuned.

vicar in a tutu

2008-03-20T19:02:00.000-07:00

why are the smiths synonymous with being emo? i don't get it. their songs are witty, ironic & charming, if not enchanting.
a lyrical antipasto, for you to judge:
*sweetness i was only joking when i said i'd like to smash every tooth in your head.

*girlfriend in a coma, i know...i know - it's really serious... there were times when i could have murdered her...(but you know, I would hate anything to happen to her).

*and if a double-decker bus crashes into us-to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die.
and if a ten-ton truck kills the both of us to die by your side-well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine.

********************************PSA**********************************

i mean, if that doesn't make you giggle, i can't help you. go buy a hello kitty backpack to stuff all your conformist ideas of happiness in.

yuppy hipster f*ck

2008-03-20T01:35:00.000-07:00

though every fiber of my being is in a perpetual state of nausea over this...i joined facebook-i was sucker punched into by polenta GB (who i may hate later because of it).i resisted for so long because i can't deal with the pressure of having all these people up in my shit. i will try it out for a week or two, to see if it sticks. caveat & achtung-i don't think it will. i found out via the ny times how to delete my account-so i DO have a safety net if i hate it like i think i will.

christopher, don't lose faith in me. think of it as a social experiment. let's see how the other half lives.

(sigh)-i feel like i just sold my soul for thirty shekels.

this ain't a scene, it's an arms race

2008-03-18T15:57:00.000-07:00

you walk down the street, and you are completely alone.
everyone is somewhere else.

listening to music-headphones jammed deep into the holes in the sides of their heads...trying desperately to create the soundtrack of their lives...going live in a constant, continuous music video.
texting-little fingers madly dancing across the latest it-device, reading messages-just to look busy, talking on the phone...

same thing happens at dinners, in bars, at cafes all over this economically nasty country-maybe the world. and it's depressing. no one looks you in the eyes anymore. no one listens to the tail-end of conversations-they are already documenting the past thing, or catching up to the current thing, or chasing the future thing.

no one just is.

i find myself becoming the multi-media third reich. not allowing phones at the table, et al-which makes me feel simultaneously old & out-of-touch. but its really starting to get on my fucking nerves. hey, i'm not judging as to how things got to this point-because, we all know i was one of the first to be guilty of indulging in being everywhere at once. but its getting out of hand. yes, ok, so we know now we can talk to anyone, anytime, and know exactly when everything on the entire bloated planet is occuring.

*noted.

now it's time to live in the present. start with a minute each day where you aren't at your computer, on your phone, or facebooking. ok? see what happens when you pick your eyes up from your ratty screens & you see what is going on in real time all around you. all you have is this moment. there are no ctrl+z edit undo's. live it, or lose it.

& yes, i feel preachy & self-righteous. but mostly just sad-and not endearingly so. sad that i am out on the street all alone.

(ps, if one more couple-a-holdin-hands waltzes past my window, shit is going down. what is this? cuddly-pairs-day? ctrl+alt+del, thanks)

sláinte gaelach

2008-03-17T00:48:00.000-07:00

a toast, to all of you, from me.

"here's to cheating, stealing, fighting & drinking.

if you cheat, may you cheat death.
if you steal, may you steal the heart of the one you love.
if you fight, may you fight for a brother
& if you drink, may you drink with me."

happy green beer, et al. get rowdy.

all hail the glory of her majesty....

2008-03-13T12:27:00.000-07:00

drum roll please..........
WELCOME HOME JENIVIE OVEDA ISGITT.

(& yes, i am pretending this is us...just go with it)

your friends, romans & countrymen could not be happy-and yes, i speak for everyone.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

punchdrunk lovesick singalong

2008-03-11T18:39:00.000-07:00

christopher, christopher, christopher (sing in a style a la "maria" in west side story, and always say it thrice. everything good should be said or done thrice).

my nbf.

(for those of new to the scene, nbf= "new best friend"...let's keep up with our acronyms people. republicanism is not a reason to allow yourself to become prematurely old & lose touch with today's youth)
it was love-at-first-sight...really...to use the most over-exhausted cliche in the english language. i can't help it. wait, let's be a little more insightful. it was actually love-at-first-backhanded-mumbled-comment. i saw something that was disturbing or just plain wrong (think "denim tuxedo" or "gold crosses riding the waves of some fat greek guy's chest hair"...puke) & i said something to myself that falls in the "unkind & mean" department (look, we are way more US weekly than the washington post) pointing out these obvious errors in judgement. and from my right, i heard a similar under-the-breath comment.

& that special, irreplaceable someone whispering inhumane things? christopher. (but christopher, they are people, too!!!)

we knew this was a forever kind of magic when other eccentricities were made self-evident. the logophilia (its contagious). the verbosity (i mean, honestly-why use 3 words when 300 is so much better? brevity is not, dear reader, the soul of wit. trust.) punchdrunk lovesick singalongs. captain obvious observations & irrational fears. this list doesn't even begin to capture the je ne sais qua of our meeting. kinetic kismet.

own it.
(picture is my emo present to you, crf)

************************************************************************************ something to revisit after we have had additional time to reflect.
a coffee table book
subject: cataloguing the quantity & variety of san francisco denim offenses-including but not limited to: excessive tightness (enhancing all kinds of lumpy horrors), zipper length (under no circumstances should this exceed 7-possibly 8"), skinny jeans on men (yes, i will not let this go, it offends me on every level), etc. this could be a real $-maker.

robots & republicans

2008-03-06T01:20:00.000-08:00

i am molly the maneater.
my assault on the world begins NOW.

it looks like that is what the nation wants to choose between come november. the droid & the white guy. at least the robot is a female version. progress? we shall see, gentle reader.

i'm still rooting for the n00b. he makes me smile the wide-eyed grin of optimism. i even contributed to the campaign. shhhhh. my republican mother is likely to fly across the fiber optic ocean & gut me like a fish. let's just keep this between you & i.

i got called a traitor today by a high school person. hard to use the word friend. what is the statute of limitations of friendships? if you were friends during those tender, adolescent, ugly-duckling years, don't talk for a decade, and then pick up where you left off (well, not really...where you left off was asking your parents for permission, paying for health insurance was a test question-not something that came out of your paycheck, and drinking meant refilling your dad's marked-where-i-last-drunk-to liquor bottles with water to disguise the missing drams that went straight down your throat, up to your head, back down to your stomach, and then right back up again, hopefully outside where you could cover over it with wood chips or hay.) so no, not right where you left off, but let's say you converse (retro-runners are the best...i have a blue & orange pair, love 'em so much they are really skeevy looking & stink now. which is how you show love to kicks.)

do you call this person a friend?

for a DECADE, a third of your existence you have not been in contact. i find it a stretch. because really, when it all comes down to it, you are trying to be friends, but you can't really ever go back. you won't ever be spending new year's eve together parked in a toyota corolla on grand parkway, drinking mad dog 20/20 you got a migrant worker to buy for you at the local stop-n-rob, smoking swisher sweets you bought @ randall's. because at 30, this would be incredibly tragic.

but at 18, well, it was...well maybe it was sad & tragic then too, but in a entirely different genre.

you can't go back & that is SO GOOD-hence my quick & sure elation at being called a benedict arnold to the state & community of my birth. that is maybe the best part. you can wax nostalgic-listen to journey, drink boone's & feel insecure about what you're wearing if it feels right. but otherwise, great to be able to start over.

let's pretend we're bunny rabbits

2008-02-29T14:53:00.000-08:00

THE MAGNETIC FIELDS.

that's right ladies & worms.
& the show's tonight & i am as giddy as this kid.
seriously-my face is pretty much frozen in that exact position...FIVE HOURS TO GO.
giddyup.

fake plastic trees

2008-02-28T21:48:00.000-08:00

my fake plastic love.
i cant help the feeling
i could blow through the ceiling
if i just turn and run
and it wears me out, it wears me out...

i couldn't possibly exhaust this song. ever.

isn't it funny how you can neglect some of your favorite songs because you have liked them forever, you take them for granted? & then one mid-60's day in the city you fall into them on accident or on a whim...music on shuffle, and it's like meeting an old friend? i love that. these moments seem to tie the old you that first listened to the music to the you now-the one that has heard the song in a hundred different situations-some memorable, others completely forgettable. it's like a moving picture, this listening to a song now that impacted you then.

random snippets gleamed from the-ever-with-me-notebook. i have no idea why i wrote these things, but they seem especially poignant tonight, as i am wallowing in that kind of mood...you know the one...a little chilly, slight breeze, headlights seen in the reflection of your window, remarkably relevant radiohead is your ambient noise (big piano chords & thom yorke's pained voice are the only songs allowed on this mood's soundtrack.)

i write phrases down in my minibook when something i hear strikes me-a song lyric, a stranger on a bus, something i said...so who knows & who wants to guess...i have absolutely no recollection of what should be attributed to whom. let your imagination get the better of you. get lost inside your own head. (step one-put the following songs in a playlist-no surprises, the tourist, karma police, fake plastic trees, romeo & juliet and put the list on repeat. until the sinking feeling goes away. it will. just takes time.)

*i fall so hard inside the idea of you.

*you're not a panda.

*i'll handle monty.

*yes ma'am, how many frequent flyer miles would it take to send someone on a nonstop flight to hell?

*prefers unhappy endings

*put fortunes in people's pockets

*a verbis ad verbera (from words to blows)

*free yourself of the expectation (that sounds str8 out of a tony robbins seminar...wow)

*it's got voodoo in it

*"i wanna be the girl" "you are the girl, that's why we're having this very confusing conversation."

*where i've been & where i am is the show

*resevoir passion

we're computerizing & we just don't need you anymore

2008-02-26T23:53:00.000-08:00

information is like porn.

it wasn't when i was paying for it-college was forced learning & basically all data was processed & then promptly tossed in the nearest bin (& yes, i am english today). but now...today, this exact moment, i can't get enough.

i am an addict.

i need help. wikipedia must be removed from all internet browers. i can hardly get through a conversation with someone, let alone read a single article without running to find out more.

does this sound familiar?

you are chatting up a nice lad, discussing politics, origami, or possibly the worst show in existenence, rock of love (& its sequel) when something is called into question. "...what was that joke about hillary in the onion?...what was urban legend about paper cranes curing cancer?...does bret michaels actually have hair under those creepy bandanas?..."

& its like the conversation, Any Conversation, is temporarily paused until the answers are found. it's as if you can't form words, the whole driving force behind talking is freeze-framed. you feel an itch. you can't let it go. without the answers to your questions, you couldn't possibly continue discussing well, anything. let's imagine the bloke you are chewing the fat with is not hooked on the same info-drug you are. he dismisses the question almost as quickly as it falls out of his fat mouth. you reach for your phone/computer/data-crack-pipe-of-preference & he tells you its "no big deal"...that you can "look it up later."
you start to hate him. a consumning, vehement loathing rolls across your retinas like a full-bodied san francisco fog. you can hardly see him anymore. this cretin. this cow that stands between you & the answers. this imbesol. you want his face to melt right off to expose what is obviously his lack of any brain matter whatsoever.
you start to sweat. if you are me, you scribble down the questions to remind you as soon as you escape the clutches of this toady, unibrowed caveman.

information.
i can't get enough.

the speed at which you can get immediate, as-fast-as-your-connection-speed-allows answers to anything is making me hopelessly ADD. when i read an article, if there is any kind of link, i click on it faster than those big-hair ladies used to smack the whammies on press your luck. i then wander off to a link in that article & la la la...and within a pocketful of minutes am utterly disoriented & have no idea where the hunt for the elusive great white rabbit began.

i started writing this with the fervor of a buffalo hunter, full of piss & vinegar & mollyesque opinions, and then my attention deficit kicked in vis a vis The Debates. most uncomfortable bit of television, fellow americans (for my foreign readers, just be happy we are getting a new president & try to pleasantly ignore the current silliness.)

lost my train of thought...again. i feel like any locomotion of ideas i am focused on gets rattled & meanders into cloud town. is this thing on? hello? am i in harrison bergeron? hello?

(because i am caring, unequivocally giving blogger, i have obviously provided very handy click-on links to answers to all queries posed above, as well as links to any references of really anything discussed herein. my gift to you. you're welcome.)

you are so last summer

2008-02-26T14:55:00.000-08:00

due to a recent onset of a wicked cold/flu-ish situation, i have this scratchy, sexy lounge singer voice. i want to keep it. i have clasped my greedy little hands around it's fraile existence, crushing it like lenny in of mice & men...screaming songs in the car so as to ensure at least a few more hours of precious sultry, husky bette-davis-with-a-ineffable-hat-&-matching-handbag voice.

i like the show gossip girl.

there.
i said it.

the cattiness, the money, the ridiculous stereotypes. teenagers that hang out at the plaza & order martinis AT THE BAR (ludicruous...these girls have "not-of-age" stamped on their freshly-facialed-faces & trainer bras.) the mothers are all over-the-top bourgie (short for bourgeois...not sure on that abbreviation) assholes, the dads of 2 varieties: superdad or too-rich-&-important-"mysonmustgetintodartmouth" types. classic. there is the "nerdy-yet-strangely-attractive-&-misunderstood-guy", his kid sister (golly gee, the fun times these two loveable characters have together), the leggy blonde, the bitchy brunette, the token asian...it's just the most a delightful group of kids...growing up in the big apple.

(ted, i don't want to hear any shit. you eat pork rinds.)

songs for the heartstrings - strung - out

2008-02-25T03:39:00.000-08:00

here you go-just read the names of these bands &/or songs & feel better. i did.

*pretty girls make graves
*a good man is easy to kill
*popular mechanics for lovers
*i'm always the one who calls
*smile! no one cares how you feel
*i love you, but i've chosen darkness
*this photograph is proof (i know you know)
*sweet sweet heartkiller
*when they really get to know you, they will run

impervious to absolutes.

2008-02-23T17:55:00.000-08:00

6 o'clock pm, saturday, the 23rd of february.

my fingers are mildly frost-bitten & my apartment windows are about to shatter into a thousand chards of glass. right in my face.

there is a tree dancing a saucy lambada (the forbidden dance) directly behind this open notebook computer. i can see the movement using my nifty & quite perceptive peripheral vision. the leaves appear to be holding hands & shimmying across the television-like screen of a single un-insulated windowpane.

tonight has full moon written all over it. the malevolent, rainbearer clouds drip ominously from the sky. the red aura that encircles every brakelight, the fuzzy tractor beams of headlights, looking out at the city from the rain-streaked windows inside my apartment...people dressed like mongolian herdsman or yetis (hoodies, random pieces of clothing thrown together to block out the driveling drizzle that is san-francisco-"rain", the rainboots & turned-inside-out-umbrellas that look like weapons of mass destruction...all thrown together haphazardly into a maddening milieu of what more posh people might call the "homeless aesthetic"-making this nomad fashion catastrophe sound even charming & philanthropic.)

this weather does not make me want to conquer the most miniscule of tasks-nothing can motivate. not even aaron copeland's "rodeo"-which at any other time can inspire me to do even the most mundane chore...when i listen to this song at any other time, i feel capable of lifting a bus in the air, whirling it around & tossing it effortlessly out of harm's way. i can always count on "fanfare for the common man" to pull my ass out of whatever self-deprecating state i have wandered into & Take Over the World.

but copeland is no match against this full moon weather situation.

so instead, i will sit inside, staring...half grimacing at the thought of ever having to leave & "pen" madly away on a story. any story. i just need that first line. that killer intro-clause to get me off & running on some tirade or another (it doesn't matter which).

i got it.

"it was a dark and stormy night..."

(thank you, charlie brown)

night-night buttercups.

eye gouge coupled with a kamikaze scream.

2008-02-19T20:31:00.000-08:00

the motivations behind this photograph.

i have rolled it around in my immense & cavernous brain for days, reaching hither & yon (an under-used phrase, if you're asking). & due to the shear NUMBER of possibilities, i am suffering from a acute case of writer's block. i even called out the troops, enlisting those ingenious legions around me (you know, i Have always said i wanted to surround myself with extraordinary people)...hoping their brilliance would shed some light on what i know is a great short story lodged in some wrinkle of my intestine-like brain mass...the novella cornered & trapped, hungry, exhausted & alone...begging to see daylight...looking for that illusive canary-in-the-mineshaft to lead it into the sun.

alas.

my "w" key keeps sticking & not sho ing up. i can't ork under these conditions. hat a aste of hat e kno is himsical & ondrous talent.

(total lie. how desparate do you have to be to slander your own keyboard?) i will listen to musak for the rest of the day as what is clearly a fair & just punishment.

carry on.

in memoriam

2008-02-13T01:49:00.000-08:00

i am & will remain in an eternal sense of loss. gills informed me tonight that according to regis & kelly (puke)-& confirmed on the boston globe website, polaroid is closing its plants in the US & internationally ...signifying the end of polaroid film.
wtf.
(can you hear the racking sobs wherever you are...?? can you hear the stifled wailing?)
that episode of seinfeld comes to mind...that one where elaine finds out they are discontinuing the sponge-and so she buys every case from every stop-&-rob in manhattan. her interaction with all males from that point forward is based on "is he sponge-worthy?"
i am compelled to run out & buy every single case of polaroid 600 film in the greater bay area. scratch that...in the entire state of california AND texas (mom, i would be soliciting your help here.)
but how can i possibly decide how many rolls of film i would need for the remainder OF MY LIFE??? the spontaneity that defines the whole "instant camera love" for me is lost. no more taking pictures of my feet, of the always-the-same-view-from-the-far-right-window-of-my-apartment - just-because-i-feel-like-it pictures. no more bums, creepy pigeons, or just to see the flash.
i am paralyzed with the impending void that will inevitably occur when i rip open that last box-no matter how many boxes i have.
& how long can you keep unused film? months? years? decades? because decades is what we are talking about here. i have nothing in my possession that i plan on still having in 40 years.

i am lost.

the way is barricaded, foggy, & the ground is covered in broken glass.

(ok, so i am a TEENSE emo over this. indulge me. i am heartbroken.)

suspension of disbelief (& other english oddities)

2008-02-12T20:16:00.000-08:00

& yes, it is no secret i am fond of words. from the alphabet all the way to 996 page novels. i live for phrases, idioms & odd-compound words (vaingloriously & huckleberry amongst the best of the them...a topic to be revisited @ a later time-the possibilities are endless).

for today, let's spend a minute reviewing "sayings."
out & about in this work a day world, i have recently been bombarded with the weirdness of common expressions. the oddity & really just how fanfuckingtastic they are. the reader should note, i am going to start throwing these out, probably @ inappropriate times scrambling the meaning horribly.

(& away we go.)

*meet your waterloo - to arrive @ a final decisive contest/hurdle. "trying to overcome common perception that she is an android that has to plug in @ night to recharge, hillary clinton has met her waterloo."

*keep your powder dry - save your resources until you need them. "listen, the best advice i can give you is to keep your powder dry, otherwise you have no leverage." (in the acquisition & mergers-sense)

*don't look a gift horse in the mouth - a gift should be appreciated for the thought and spirit behind it, not according to its value (see saying origin...rad). "look, i am sure he meant well, jenny...even though it is just a knife...don't look a gift horse in the mouth...? also, don't hit me."

*paper tiger - a person who appears to have power but is in reality ineffectual. "in appearance it is very powerful but in reality it is nothing to be afraid of; it is a paper tiger. i believe the united states is nothing but a paper tiger." (had to use the actual saying origin, due to my bizarre fascination with communism & socialism...i mean this one came straight from mr. mao & the little red cookbook...)

ok, ladies & albatrosses (around my neck), there you have it. branch out, find your own idioms to latch onto & make your own. spice up the monotony of living (this includes you, mother dearest...it's either this or the morphine drip...)

the way to there.

2008-02-07T06:28:00.001-08:00

es muss sein. es konnte ach anders sein.

(a toast-"to happy days dancing on a beach with balloons in funny looking swimsuits-for no particular reason.")

moving pictures, silent films

2008-02-06T15:43:00.000-08:00

sitting here, legs propped up on the bed, computer in my lap-& finally, good lord Finally, the savage beast has been soothed. that uncaring, cruel & unusual bastard Pain. pain makes those that suffer from it into trembling, wretched invalids. it makes those that have to watch into trembling, helpless voids. why must there be pain? why can't we just heal & keep going or sigh our last & let it be done? why pain? does it provide some useful & poignant higher purpose?

i am suggesting we set up a UN committee immediately-proposing all pain be eradicated. those in favor, say "aye."

a quiet night, after what will go done as not being my favorite day. i am the trembling, helpless void-forced to sit idly by & watch my friend writhe in ridiculous, inhumane, ASSHOLE pain. & i hate it. i hate how i can't fix it. i hate that she is forced to go through it. i hate it. full stop.

i hope this will be the last post like this. for your sake. for her sake. for my sake.

goodnight & good luck

2008-02-05T17:29:00.001-08:00

today we were sans barf, so that's a positive.in general, my 24-hours-since-my-last-post summary is "life is fucking weird." i would try to explain this better if i wasn't so thrilled that jenny & mr. isgitt are sleeping. so like the mother i am not, i will take this opportunity to steal a little shut eye myself-as you are supposed to if you have an infant..."if the baby sleeps, you sleep" theory on how to live through it.

night night friends, argentines & countrymen.
happy tsunami tuesday.

the throw-up demon (or "how i almost got pummeled by a 93-year old woman with 2 black eyes)

2008-02-04T16:36:00.000-08:00

today was something else.

jenny got a wicked stomach flu, which meant most of the day was in & around a beige, plastic trash can-with a plastic bag liner. that & excruciatingly-difficult - to-watch-jenny-pain-tremors. @ & around the 83rd time she was going for broke & barfing up her insides-i was looking to provide some kind of reassurance or support. what do you say? "this really sucks?" "man, first your leg, and now barf-town?" nothing seemed really right, so i settled with the cliche "if i could take it from you, this relentless puking, i totally would." i followed up with a molly-esque disclaimer "but this is absolutely theoretical since it's an impossibility...how would that even work? a barf angel who flaps his chunky wings & grants vomit-trades? would he/she/it be a fairy? or more of an ogre type variety? good or evil?..."

i kept hypothesizing until she laughed. (but she puked again anyway, despite my courageous attempts to call in tinkersmell. sigh)

so before jenny faked napped to force me to leave the house & "get file folders" (she knows me too well...just the thought of organizing made me spark right up), & she knew i wouldn't leave until she was "asleep" (i bet she is capable of crocodile tears too...if she can fake sleep...tricksy, very tricksy...)-we talked about my new lens (if you can still follow this sentence...). i really want to be able to take candid pictures of strangers, but lack the confidence - i sometimes even hate lugging out my camera, for fear of not-fitting-in, or being a huge dweeb-o. but with my new stalker lens...well...maybe i could play the professional photog-role & maybe get away with being a peeping-tom-of-a-kind.

i finally got up the nerve, because i could NOT walk away without capturing this woman...2 black eyes & black lipstick. she saw me take the picture (even though i was super top-secret agent-like...i guess subtlety is not one of my strong suits.) she kept saying "blah blah blah spanish blah-LINDA-blah blah blah." well "linda" means "beautiful" in spanish-so i am not quite sure what message she was trying to get across. i played the dumb american card-which sometimes comes in handy when being charged by what is obviously a tough old bird.

back to vomit-town.

i wonder...

2008-02-03T09:27:00.000-08:00

as jenny sits here & blow dries the gauze on her upper leg (so as to be able to remove all the bandages by wednesday) & as her leg is in this 15th century torture device to keep it suspended-i wonder...
what is going on in other people's apartments.

if this is what is happening on avenue hipolito yrigoyen, apartment 3-what is going on in the plethora of homes around us?would we be surprised by the normalcy (having lunch, taking a nap, smoking a cigarete), or by the freakishly bizarre david lynch-esque occurences like @ this apartment? is there anyone out there also peeling medical tape & bloody gauze off some appendage?

i wonder.

i'm here (or, cuidado. los autobuses son peligrosos.)

2008-02-02T17:52:00.000-08:00

arrived today-after a harrowing nose-picking seat mate (not exaggerating, it was brutal, i will try to launch into that after a good night's sleep & as soon as the nausea goes away) & all the preparation it took to actually make it (yes, this was attempt #2)-i am on a new continent.

i feel like magellen. (now all i need to do is make a map...)

more later about my adventures inside jenny's head (& vice versa).
vaya con dios.

shouting across the divide

2008-01-28T12:24:00.000-08:00

i want to be a maori tribesman.
hongis all around. (no cynicism here, honest-this picture makes me strangely light & optimistic.)

when did your heart go missing...(emo title #35)

2008-01-27T12:27:00.000-08:00

this lady...she is desperately seeking something...no? the outfit, the mashed cigarettes-all half smoked...her MAKEUP (which is phenomenal)...her red nails...she is a vixen, a femme fatale. trapped in the body of an unloved housewife. my next comic will steal this as its backstory.

(thanks to leifpeng for the picture)

the beat robots

2008-01-25T02:24:00.000-08:00

mad requests from all fronts asking what's playing in my ear (my taste is just That Good...lies, all lies-i just needed the encouragement-i think if most of my urban family were asked to describe my music proclivities in one word, that word would be...hmmm...probably "weird"-because most of my friends have really crap vocabularies. fact.)

yeah cubed. yyyeeeaaahhh.

(i'm a riot, alice).

before the list (is your heart racing yet? are your palms sweaty, your eyes rolling back into your head, like you're having a seizure? is your breathing shallow & weak? i know. parfait.) last.fm is siQ-download it, just have it going in the background somewhere. basically, if you are over listening to the same blech records you have in your itunes library, you can listen to a song you kinda like & find similar artists. found some of my favorite bands this way. you also can get reco's, meet randos with their whole encyclopedia britanica of opinions & loves & anathemas (BAM, pee wee herman comes out & the toaster & hat & flowers outside the window all dance-AAAAAAAAA). point? if you want to improve your taste, or just get out there a little more (MOVE OUT of your MOM'S HOUSE, GD*it, man, grow a pair!) get last.fm.

my musical routine (which obviously involves a high hat, a cane, and some wicked dance moves, in public, where my back up singers sing a kicky harmony) is to be OCD - read "TOTALLY obsessed"- with about 5 songs for a coppola (yes, i know) weeks - & i end up looking back nostalgically some weeks/months/years later at those songs that took hold of me & let them make the soundtrack for that particular time. then there are songs that i play here & there, that i grow to love & they will be on the soundtrack of my life. epic difference.

none of what i just said has anything to do with the songs i am going to list - i'm just filling the void. (i had you going there for a bit, though, didn't i? meh.)

(thanks to billi kid for making rad stickers & just generally for being bad ass-click on picture to see his stuff)

zippy songs (for the long trip home, when you need to put the pep back in your step) (title & then artist. read left to write. letters combine to make words, words combine to make...well, let's hope we're all on the same page)
*discotraxx, ladytron
*seventeen, ladytron
*scattered pearls, casiotone for the painfully alone
*smother + evil = hurt, the kissaway trail
*the genocide ball, the robot ate me
*glitter & twang, tullycraft (fun fun funsies song)
*doin' the raccoon, george olsen (no, this has not changed from yesterday, geesh)

what's it all about songs (for those deeper moments, when you need to have a reason for the ridiculous, a meaning behind the mess-or if you're just feeling emo & want to wallow in your own misery)
*moving pictures silent films, great lake swimmers
*trance manual, john vanderslice
*follow through, hotel lights
*owl waltz, seabear (the entire album the ghost that carried us away is laid back chill)
*love will tear us apart, susanna & the magical orchestra
*your hand in mine, explosions in the sky (yes, this song doesn't come off this list)

ok, i've got stuff to do too. i'll leave you with this:
"an intelligent man is sometimes forced to be drunk to spend time with fools." -ernest hemingway
(maybe ole "papa" should have pushed the bottle every once an awhile-so he would have become something other than a skeavy old lech living in a dirty cabin in the middle of nowhere when he died ALONE...hindsight, i guess...)

join the racoon coat fraternity

2008-01-23T00:29:00.000-08:00

the song is "doin' the raccoon" by george olsen. it is the best dork song out there-and it's from the 30's (or so). download it. waste a little precious time.

back to the grind.

thank you, wicked wicked funny person (james lileks) @ the bleat.

the bleat is a great place to troll for a LONG time...no really-way too much time. a totally unbelievable period of minutes/hours/days. achtung.

(thanks to silvernightingale for the picture)

things i don't remember...ever

2008-01-21T01:51:00.000-08:00

*my user name for the 300 places i've registered for something (be it feeds, shopping, craftsy sites, at&t, pg&e, emails...i can't EVER remember what mood i was in when i signed up...or what email account i was using at the time...the number of times i have had to select "forgot user name?" is really borderline skitz-o)

*if i have enough garbage bags-so i always buy more, and have 25 boxes. the only time i am Certain i have them is when there isn't any.

*what list is where (i have iphone lists, computer sticky lists, little-brown-book-in-my-bag lists, moleskine notebook lists, etc. etc. etc.)

*which direction to go on bart-even if i am trying to get back to the city-i ultimately end up always having to call someone (art...is it the pittsburgh or the richmond train?)

*words i have read a million times that i thought i knew the definition of but was too warm in the beds to get up & dictionary...

SO, new plan? (i can't do anything about those other 4 never-remembers...but this last one i am going to try & beat).

vocabulary words of the week (yes, of course i have an excel list of all the words i was either slightly shaky on the definition or those that i love & want to use more...you would expect nothing less, no?)

so here we go, alligators & monkeys-the words of the week:

*hubris - (n), exaggerated pride or self-confidence. president bush's narcissistic hubris in international affairs (& pretty-much-always) has made it necessary to fake being canadian when outside of the states. (& yes, i am bitter)

*laconic - (adj), using very few words. sometimes, even by loquacious, over-the-top logophiles like myself, a picture really is worth a thousand words.

*anathema - (n), something or someone vehemently disliked or loathed. skinny jeans on guys coupled with flock-of-seagulls-esque emo hair styles was anathema to her fairly traditional sensibilities. (click on picture for additional details of the stupidity pictured at right)

*sardonic - (adj), disdainfully humorous. anyone whose last words are recorded to have been "either that wallpaper goes, or i do" is a friend of mine (and subsequently sardonic)-thank you mr. oscar wilde-in another life, you were my gay boyfriend.

*erudite - (adj), knowledgeable through reading & study. let's be honest, we all know common sense isn't my strength, if i know anything, it is because of my passion for books-i am extraordinarily erudite (with a touch of hubris, just to keep you on your toes)-ok, that sentence was shit, but this took way longer than planned.

non, je ne regrette rien

2008-01-16T23:59:00.000-08:00

going to see my friend jenny. (trip to argentina...take two...smack of the arm on that hollywood-scene-announcer-wooden-thing).
can't wait. viva spontaneity.

the people have spoken

2008-01-15T19:59:00.000-08:00

ambivalence waltz.

愉快的生日跟我

2008-01-12T23:11:00.000-08:00

another birthday-who knew it would get here so soon? in some ways the longest year of my life, in other ways, astonishingly short.
ohhhh, but i am SO much wiser. the amount of knowledge acquired between the immature & oafish 28 & the glorious year-of-the-molly, magnificent 29...well...ginormous barely begins to cover it.

here's what i learned, in a very edited list (ps, i'm making this up as i go along...but am feeling quite loqacious tonight, so this is my mental note to try & keep it brief):

*sometimes you really DO have to take the leap & build your wings on the way down. (very rarely, before embarking on something you want to do in business, in your personal life-basically anything involving any kind of risk-if you Wait until all the Pieces Are In Place, you will NEVER MOVE. you will find yourself living in a place you don't want to be, incarcerated by fear. fear is the enemy. & sometimes you really can't see the forest for the trees, so you stand still. stop. burn the forest down & wield your machete with the courage of a thousand men.)

*there is nothing scarier than starting anew. nothing. (change you can control is easy to navigate through...it's the changes that are forced on you-by life that are overwhelming & suffocating.)

*just when you think you couldn't possibly take anymore stress, transition, anxiety or pain, more is dumped on you. you Will survive. (some sayings do prove true...it really does get darkest before dawn. on the worst day of your life realize that yes, it could indeed get worse. but you will find you had strength you didn't think possible...it will arrive just when you need it.)

*just because someone seems like a friend, it doesn't mean they are. (i learned last year that though i have throughout my life played the victim in shitty friendships-"she was a bad person...la la la"-by my silence, i make it ok for people to use me. i am an active participant in the people i choose to spend my time with & energy on. i learned that you must constantly evaluate the friends in your life. if you are more often than not feeling unappreciated & under-loved, something has to change. if it looks like a duck & quacks like a duck...well...exactly. i will be a million times better off ending a poisonous relationship the minute i realized it is lethal, then wait for a slow death. nip that shit in-the-bud.)

*good people are out there. they are rare, but they do exist. grab those people & don't let go.

*just because a book is well-loved the world over, an international best seller, a pulitzer or man booker prize winner, heralded as a classic & a must-read...DOES NOT MAKE IT A GOOD BOOK. (give such books the ole college try-and if just ISN'T GOOD, put it down. i've wasted more time trying to figure out why a crap book is "valuable to mankind" then i care to calculate.)

*sometimes the best sound is silence. (and if i can say that-molly that downloads 100+ songs a week,-you know that was a profound lesson from the last 12 months.)

*good will prevail. not always as swiftly as you want, or with as much fanfare as it deserves, but everyone eventually gets what's coming to them. you reap what you so, and karma's a bitch (insert scary laugh here.)

*new hobbies &/or interests are the most therapeutic way to get through the dark days. (trust me...if you have specific questions, you know where to reach me. i could go on about this for much longer than is interesting. trust me on this one, though. it's a fact.)

i'm sure i am missing a prodigious amount of molly-isms & year-in-review truths, don't fret, loyal fans, i am certain to ponder all of this at a future date. happy birthday to me (& thank you mother dearest-for ...well, you know...!)

resevoir passion

2008-01-10T19:05:00.000-08:00

& back from the other side, the warrior has returned. obviously wiser for the wear. most definitely victorious (was there ever a doubt?).

first post of the new year. albeit belated, fundamental nonetheless. vital. impervious. insidious. magical manifestations of mindlessness.

will this year be different? will 2008 hold the answers that 2007 failed to reveal? will this new set of 12 perfectly un-lived & untainted months carry with them success, satisfaction, beauty & love-love-love? 52 weeks without emergency vet visits? 365 days mixed with calm & frenzy-but only when you want the extremes? will the time be endless ah-ha moments of self-improvement & awareness?. will i learn more, give more & live more freely? will music sound better, concerts be more spectacular & albums be produced by the thousands that change-enrich-catapult our auditory senses into the seventh level of heaven? will food be only fresh & full of vitamin-y goodness, yet devilishly delicious? will the winter be time for somber reflection & summer time for sun-filled spontaneous serendipity?

well.
we'll just have to see, won't we?

that's the best thing about the new year. that we don't know.

whether the next 12 months, in hindsight, were the worst-and we chalk this year up to be forgotten in the archives of absolutely awful...who would want to know that in advance? that would make living it twice as bad, because the anticipation of dread means you would be going through some version of hell twice. and if this year turns out to be the BEST YEAR OF YOUR LIFE-the year that on your death bed you proclaim to the loved one holding your hand that "2008 was the most fantastically magnificent 365 days of my whole life"-who wants to know that on 1.january? that's like finding out someone's throwing you a surprise party before you're surprised.

the mystery is the best part.
enjoy it.

(see you when the sun goes down)

ps-(i tried to push the button shown in the photograph...and was br00t@lly attacked by squirrels..achtung, baby...)

1195 park avenue, suite 202a

2007-12-20T18:52:00.000-08:00

there you go, folks! the beginning of greatness! there are definitely other decorative touches to be added (read "pinky street")...but the furniture is all in place & we are ready to go! first full week back in an office...and this time it's MY OFFICE. sigh.

life is good.

night windows

2007-12-16T01:12:00.000-08:00

& day windows, and windows into yesterday, today & tomorrow. lots of windows. all looking out onto something, or nothing, & sometimes not looking at all.

nausea created by...

2007-12-14T00:02:00.001-08:00

nausea created by any or all of the following ingredients:

1. crap cab driver with either a heavy braking foot (that caused the car to stop suddenly...ALL THE TIME) or a penchant for alcoholism (he did mention carrying a flask at all times to make drinks stronger-a great thing to hear from the man driving your mom, sister & yourself-yowza.)

2. junior mints that i didn't want

3. THE WORST ACTING I HAVE EVER SEEN (thank you a.c.t.'s rendition of charles dickens' "a christmas carol")*
*i really can't put into words that would accurately describe the horror of this play. my mom, sister & i agreed that we realized the potential for awful within the first 2 minutes. the set? blah. the screenplay adaption? boring. the acting????? i can't stress how bad (sorry to any a.c.t. actors reading this...but i can't sugar coat here).

you all know the story-scrooge, tiny tim, the 3 ghosts...a story whose popularity could really only be topped by maybe santa & the reindeers or the birth of jesus. so you are asking yourself...how crap could it actually have been?

within the first couple of minutes, i turned to my mom & say "this is not going to work. it's bad"...little did i know the extent of what that word..."bad"...would later come to encompass.

let's put it this way-after the first speaking lines were "delivered", and after the cooperative (lame) audience had doubled over at the "funny lines"...i mouth to ana "fake laugh"-@ which point ANY TIME there was anything the audience started chuckling at-ana would throw her head back & bust out in a raucous, mid-westerner-at-a-comedy-club type laugh, that trailed off at the end (aaaaaaahhhhh) & the words "great stuff" (the reader should realize ana's performance would last far & beyond the audience's chuckle fest...meaning everyone got to enjoy it's ridiculous quality). at which time mom & i would cry from laughing so hard-& then all three of us would fall apart until the next time. sadly, we are all fairly certain the people unfortunate enough to sit around us thought this was really her laugh-and they were highly annoyed that they were sitting next to "that girl".

& then came the side comments from the 3 of us-the peanut gallery-which can't exactly be categorized as "heckling" since we only whispered them to each other...but the fits of silent-i-shouldn't-be-laughing-now-laughter that would follow these comments only kept the momentum going...we decide we are most definitely going to be leaving early...this is agreed upon with merely a look we pass between the three of us...ana later described this look as meaning "i would pay the full price of the ticket again, just to get the f* out of here".

the "commentary" we were delivering from the sidelines really came to a head when the ghost of christmas past appeared...a larger man...on a swing from the top of the stage...painted all in gold...wearing gold lamee tights...singing..."don't you remember"...

i look at my mom with a look on my face similar, i believe, to something that could be classified as pure & sincere shock. "mom...let's be sure we are clear. is that a larger man, in gold tights, dangling his large calves off a swing, flying from the sky? is this really happening?"

this apparition's entrance was really the point of no return-it was just a matter of when we would be pulling our gypsy exit...because this ghost-this central part to the lore of a christmas carol, was not the ghost of christmas past meant to remind dear old ebenezer about how happy he once was.

he was the queen of the big-thigh-gold-tights club. he did leaps, he did jazz hands, he did spirit fingers (yes, like what you would see at a high school football game mixed with what you would see at a senior citizens water aerobics class), he kicked his feet in what some would call a "jig dance step" (others would call it feet convulsions). he spoke with an acting style something like what is seen on the outtakes of american idol.

now, when the curtain went down at the first half, we looked at each other & say (again, still in a semi-comatose shock) "maybe we should stay...at least to see the ghost of christmas present..."...our reason for saying this is what is known as "rubber necking". human being's base desire to watch a train wreck & see actual carnage (or at least a really jacked up car). we were morbidly curious as to how much more awful this little play could deliver...

we go to the bar to get water (we are beyond being able to use alcohol to numb the wounds)-and we collectively realize how impossible it was going to be to get back in those seats & sit through a single additional minute of the performance.

what a night.

ex nihilo

2007-12-11T10:23:00.000-08:00

latin for "out of nothing".

in a sentence-the animaniacs made for fantastic tv...without a real "theme", basically ex nihilo they conquered syndicated cartoons (lame sentence...i'm brain dead...let it go).

and on that note (really the reason i am bothering to post at all)..albeit outdated now by political boundary standards...
without further ado...

to those in the city

2007-12-07T01:04:00.000-08:00

xmas xomplaints

2007-12-02T16:34:00.001-08:00

i love xmas, don't get me wrong. i think it's great-spending money, wrapping gifts, the food, all of it.

my first xriticism, however is...

the american motto? buy stuff. lots of stuff. buy buy buy buy buy buy spend $$$, buy, charge it, buy buy buy.

then why in the name of everything santa, do department stores force all this crap into your hands to buy...and then give you the jankiest carry-away bags ever made? obviously the money spent on clothes/shoes/sheets/peppermint bark @ crate & barrel isn't put back into the "shopping bag" fund.

twice, i repeat TWICE since christmas shopping, i have had handles rip right off the bag.

and am forced to either steal bags from unsuspecting non-shopped stores, or shove everything into my purse, and not look like i'm stealing.

i'm beginning to think santa really is a fat SOB with a penchant for breaking in & rummaging through sorority girls unmentionables drawers...maybe he really is a totally pervy weirdo.

grrrrrr......it's almost enough to force me into the ebenezer-corner.

if it happens again before my shopping jollies are over, i will ever be an online gifter from here forward.

i've said my peace.

amen.

the people vs. novel arson

2007-11-24T01:20:00.000-08:00

my question is-Who Burns Books?

my wikipedia research (who needs encyclopedias) reveals the following as famous book burning events:

1. victim-the mayans. perpetrator-the spanish

2. victim-the scholarly & intellectual. perp-qin dynasty

3. victim-humanity. perp-the nazis

basically, all novel arson has occured at the hands of fascists, egoists & historically proven idiots.

the people rest, your honor.

gun moll

2007-11-15T02:55:00.000-08:00

a gun moll.

wikipedia definition:
"A gun moll was the female companion of an American gangster of the 1920s and 30s. Moll, from Molly a diminutive of Mary, was a euphemism for whore or prostitute. These women for the most part were unremarkable except for their association with some of the most notorious killers of the times and organized crime mobsters. . The word "gun moll" can also mean a female companion of a robber or terrorist, and not only just a gangster."

wow. information is fun.

the stream of consciousness that got me to this random sliver of information?

trying to name a new design family...and wanted maybe a french theme...that wasn't working, so i thought of alliterations i like...came across femme fatale, starting looking for lists of them...read a page or 2 on the mata hari (fascinating) & then trolled around for ages looking at manga lists & film noir lists...and on one of these random pages i ran across "gun moll". hint-when your name is molly, and has been for respectively 28+ years, you instantly pick up anything that looks like your name & click on it. it is an instinct-not to be repressed.

and i found out my name is shortened to mean hooker.

i heart the internet.

slipper-staring with aplomb

2007-11-13T14:34:00.000-08:00

i'll admit it-i drank the kool-aid. when stars' torquil campbell asked the audience to sit down on the last song & just listen, i sat indian style with the lot of them. i stared with melancholic ambivalence/depth at my feet or the grungy carpet, or my neighbors glaring white ass crack.

whatever.

point is it was fun. for 4.5 minutes i was a part of a group that i didn't despise (namely because i didn't have to actually converse or actually get to Know any of them-whew...)-and we participated in a "team" activity-and collectively shared a little something i like to call a "moment." & it was good times. & everyone got up a little cheerier than when they sat down. it was fairly enlightening to let just the slightest tinge of pollyanna effect my generally morose sensibilities.

try it sometime, fellow cynics. stand in line, and wait for your little paper cup full of kool aid...and while its a little bitter at first, you will warm right up to it...trust me.

yacht rock

2007-11-12T18:19:00.001-08:00

to the kind person who left the cd in the zipcar...may you learn what music taste is (none of the songs on your cd constitute "good taste")
*africa, toto
*steely dan (anything)
*maneater
*sailing, christopher cross

on what kind of yacht were you intending to listen to this type of music? a boat that would take you magically back to the early 80's? if that ship exists, it would be wise to never get on it.

ever.

an avalanche of minutes

2007-11-10T01:26:00.000-08:00

i await your response with bated breath.
wtf?
so if one can assume that by bait we are talking about fishing...then my breath has fishing line with a worm on it, waiting for someone to reel it in? this signifies anticipation? we are supposed to be relaying that feeling of nervous waiting that a fisherman has before pulling in a soon-to-be-blobby-dead-fish?

that is the stupidest saying ever.

fact.

photobooth monday...

2007-11-05T19:33:00.001-08:00

i don't do crowds

2007-10-29T14:30:00.000-07:00

could this dog be any cuter? the answer is no.

shameless dog cuteness ... it's nauseating...really...

apologies. you wouldn't be able to help yourself either, if these were your ridiculous emo dogs.

what's the hold up? where's the fire?

2007-10-22T01:53:00.000-07:00

a weekend recap, for those suffering from the affliction of boredom:

the highlights:

*gills & i all suited up for a dinner date, our date (andrew, you mook) pulls a gypsy no-show, so we go to rose pistola...a little fancy for the two of us (as we are used to a more casual sitting-in-the-living-room-eating-plain-yogurt-with-almonds-in-our- pajamas kind of dining situation). we are all set for the standard fare (italian margherita pizza & a salad, wine for me, coke for the sister) when what, to our wondering eyes doth appear? as a special treat from the kitchen staff (that know gills from the other restaurant)? a steaming hot plate of mussels.
(vomit rising even in the retelling of this event)

it's an open kitchen. they can see everything i do. & there are 3-5 eager faces awaiting our approval. for the stranger to these pages & my dietary situation, nothing with a pulse for me. & gills/bg doesn't eat anything from the ocean.

we are So Alike in so many ways. but at this moment, where we differ becomes deafeningly evident.

i figure, for courtesy's sake, we have to eat at least 1/2 of this plate of flesh. so, even though I DON'T EAT MEAT, i crack open the carcasses & anchors aweigh. no looking back. i have downed about 5 of them, when i realize banana is still fiddling with the first one. she looks at me & in all seriousness says "i don't think i can do this". short of reaching across the table & gutting her like a fish, i say in my most even tone, through very clenched teeth, "I Don't Eat Meat, You Will Be Eating These F*ing %*#$@$ Starting Right The F* Now".

i think in total, she ate four, all swallowed whole with lots of water (it's sunday night @ 2 am, and as of right now, she still complains about them being lodged in her throat).

the pizza was crap & the salad had an exciting factor of "meh". but we got a story out of it, so, totally worth it.

*movie plans to see the darjeeling limited otra vez. bg & i are all guns go to meet sweet lime, at which time she calls to say she is running late (all is forgiven, sweet lime, don't fret). we decide to venture out right then anyway, in hot pursuit of coffee & breakfast (granted, its noon, but i have not been up to grocery shopping yet again, so there is not so much as an oat flake to eat @ 1429 kearny street, apartment no.3).

again, the dietary situation of one molly e. mundt & the aesthetics situation of one ana f. laub plays a major factor in what happens next.

if you know me, you know i have a food repertoire of about 10 things. one of them is the peaches & raspberry yogurt thing at starbucks. it's the only thing i like to eat there, other than the cookies (to clarify, i like the following cookies-the peanut butter & the snickerdoodle...Not, i repeat, Not the chocolate chip or the oatmeal, i hate the latter 2 cookies, gross).
if you know gills, a place has to rate higher on the aesthetics scale than "depressing". this adjective, "depressing", means it is unsuitable to be in said establishment, or even to walk past it.

we enter starbucks #1, on montgomery & clay. no yogurt breakfast for me. we move on. starbucks #2. "too depressing". starbucks #3. no food for me. starbucks #4. environment ok enough to get ana's food, but alas, no breakfast for me, and still depressing enough to not get the coffee & stay there. starbucks #4. closed. starbucks #5. disco.

yes, that's right, gentle reader, 5 f*ing starbucks until we actually got coffee & breakfast.

after consuming & walking out to meet sweet lime for the movie, bg thinks it would be really funny to hide. she is ridiculous. she finally comes out, and is walking behind me. i know this because all of sudden i hear loud running footsteps & then feel what seems like a gunshot in my right ass cheek. ana has decided as retribution for me spraying raid in her eyes in the lawn & garden department of wal-mart when we were NINE, she will select this time to punch me close fisted in the ass & with a running start.

i scream & nearly buckle, to the amusement of starbucks patrons & tourists alike. she flees the scene & hides around the corner.

i would keep recounting weekend highlights, but i have to re-inflate the ass doughnut i am sitting on before the swelling starts again.

thanks bg
(ps-the reader should note that this sister-of-mine does not yet have a bed yet, and sleeps an arm's length from me, if that...revenge is a #&$^#, banana. for sound effect purposes, the reader should insert a scary laugh track here, as i will be super-gluing large male tidy whities to her right calf later tonight)

(pss-happy birthday, art! enjoy manhattan!)

transit umbra, lux permanet

2007-10-22T00:41:00.000-07:00

to my friend, that i almost lost. that i misjudged & misunderstood & wrongly made the villain.

for your ability to let the past go, to forget words spoken in anger....for seeing beyond the silence & the screaming...& knowing that buried inside i was frustrated & disappointed. that i felt like a marginalized victim, forced to sit on the sidelines & watch the demise of the world from the bleachers, arms tied behind my back, gagged & blindfolded. forced to wait in agony while the arena crumbled around me. that you understood & (present tense) understand me, is one of life's sparse miracles.

shadow passes, light remains.

behavior makes belief?

2007-10-20T00:52:00.001-07:00

is it just a simple matter of matter over mind? is that all it takes? can you force your mind to ascribe to something by going through the motions like you already believed "x" thing? i mean, does "build it & they will come" really work when kevin costner & james earl jones are nowhere to be found?

let's give the audience an example of when this technique could prove useful (though the author has zero proof that this works, but hopes that it works, which in this case will have to be enough).

messy break-up? found your partner f*ing around? is the other person "just not that into you"? is your heart broken & shattered into unrecognizable pieces on a dirty sidewalk in detroit? do you find yourself unable to move past the pain? all you have to do is ACT as if you are over it-through your actions...meaning, you go about your day AS IF you are not desperately melancholy (in a style reminscent of vincent van gogh cutting off his ear, whilst listening to the smiths) & EVENTUALLY your brain will catch up with your body. now, i am in no way advocating sluting around-that's not exactly what i mean by acting as if...more like go about the day-to-day stuff as you did before you were sad (but without mr. or ms. x).

another example that could bring this one home (yes, this is the 2nd lofty attempt to use sports metaphors in writing...my hands tremble with nausea.) are you depressed (ok, disclaimer-if you are really depressed, like in a clinical way-go to a psychiatrist & get some medicine, i mean in a "it's been a week, and i hate myself & i'm bored with my life"...)-you go about the day PRETENDING by your actions that you are totally fine...and eventually you WILL BE fine. some call this the power of visualization. i don't. as i am not asking you to repeat some chant to yourself, using your rotted brain to imagine a better place for haggard body. no, no, no. (always group repetitive words in odd numbers, it's more aesthetically pleasing for the reader-a fun fact brought to you direct from "writing wranglers", local chapter 94133). no "envisioning" propaganda here. i'm saying actually go through the motions of not being where you are, and after some time has past, your mind/thoughts/blah blah blah will join the club.

hey, can't hurt.

solipsism & me

2007-10-17T15:37:00.000-07:00

for those unfortunate to not be in the know regarding this philosophy: basic summary - "nothing exists outside my own mind"

they say infants are solipsists @ birth. all infants. as they cannot yet identify anything outside their own mind

solpsism syndrome? (of course)...when one feels that everything is a dream & not real

isn't the state where everything is imaginary where you want to be? sometimes reality is nothing to write home about, and hardly worth waking up for

i have nothing else to say, today, life's a play, pimping the night away, hiding from the fray..i'm still really bad at this (freestylin', not life, geesh. i am heavily medicated to prevent jumping from cliffs-no need to worry, gentle reader)

weekend summary

2007-10-14T23:47:00.000-07:00

yowza.

a show, giving wedding cake to a homeless man in washington square park (who had no idea what we were offering, but said yes anyway...life lesson, maybe?), meeting on fabrics, coffee with the INDIAN LOVE OF MY LIFE (yes, sharayu-sp?-that's you), vanity fear/fair, mama's on washington square, a taxi service, and drum lessons.

& i think i was sick for most of it. oh, the power of the mind.

other big drama rolled like marbles down a hill (how's that for metaphysical lyricism?)

i learned the word "vitriolic" too, which is a good one to carry around in your pocket & use in the most tedious of situations.

i used it 3 times this weekend...

showy shows recap, week of 8.october

2007-10-14T01:25:00.000-07:00

beirut
8-9.october
herbst theater

the tragically hip
10.october
the warfield

rogue wave
12.october
bimbo's 365

showy shows recap, week of 14.october

2007-10-10T01:30:00.000-07:00

matt pond pa
16.october
gamh

say hi (to your mom)
17.october
bottom of the hill

who is john galt?

2007-10-04T18:41:00.000-07:00

friends, romans, countrymen...lend me thine...eyes?

just finished reading the fountainhead. thumbs up to objectivism. although she only used her philosophy to write books & indoctrinate a few people, she still stands near the top of the "kick ass thinkers of the century" list (yes, i would be the type to have one of those). it's nice feeling like striving to be successful, at all costs, is not something to be ashamed of.

yes, i enjoy words. i enjoy reading them, memorizing them, painting them, eating them with frosted mini-wheats for breakfast...i love words. always have. if there is a blank scrap of paper in my life, it only exists because i haven't found it yet & scribbled on it.

but i couldn't write books as she writes books...i am too distracted, i guess-as i am so very much attached to the stream of consciousness style (meaning one random thought always leads to another) to stay that focused on one thing. describing a scene between two people, rand writes:
she reached over & took the cablegram off the mirror. she crumpled it, her fingers twisting slowly in a grinding motion against her palm. he stood listening to the crackle of the paper. she leaned forward, opened her hand over the wastebasket, and let the paper drop. her hand remained still for a moment, the fingers extended, slanting down, as they had opened.

now, if i, molly-as-writer, was describing this scene, i would have written the following:
she took the cablegram from the mirror & destroyed it in the palm of her hand. the sound was deafening, in that this-paper-stands-for-something-really-important metaphorical way. he stood listening. for added effect, and perhaps because she was so caught up in the moment she didn't realize the telenovela/OC weekly sitcom quality she was giving to the entire scene, she dropped the crumpled paper into the bin & let her hand freeze-frame over the wastebasket for much longer than was necessary. drama queen.

so there you go. mine was actually longer. but does anyone see what i am talking about? i could have written 3 pages about that little nothing scene-by rewording it in my own way-and by the end of the 3rd page, the reader would have been lost entirely inside the aimless wandering of my mind-the original scene thrown along the wayside as i recount some story of how the english call waste receptacles "bins" & how we americans call them trash cans.

who is john galt? that is the only question. until next time, keep it interesting.

birthday jollies

2007-09-30T21:55:00.000-07:00

happy birthday to the sister who has it all - namely, 4 dogs & me as a live-in companion. companion is the wrong word...too spaced to think of something more appropriate (snuggles? yes, definitely snuggles)

(thanks for vacuuming while i try to work, too...no, not being sarcastic, really-it's great times, i feel my head being sucked in through the top of the nozzle attachment you are using to clean all the hair off the baseboards in every single room. i'm serious, i mean it-thanks. i'm using that obnoxious hoover-ing sound as the real reason behind my lack of productivity. when it stops, not sure what i am going to fill the void with.)

peace, love & peanut butter frosting from love @ first bite.

showy shows recap, week of 30.september

2007-09-29T01:10:00.000-07:00

her space holiday
(xoxo, panda & gruff rhys)
2.october
cafe du nord

the shins
5.october

bloc party, justice, satellite party
la weekly de tour
6.october
los angeles

melodic mania

2007-09-26T01:27:00.000-07:00

while perhaps not the most aesthetically handsome band in the world, still fun. gotta love that supernatural something...for regular guys to stand up on stage & rock their shit (& be good at it) & have people begging for more-more dorky dance moves, more hips gyrating...just more of everything. offstage? these guys look like the trolls that work in the dmv, do your taxes, or ask for money in the haight outside of amoeba music.

onstage? magic.

best part of the night? the symmetry of seeing this old crackhead lady outside of the gold dust before we went to the show (waiting for ken, of course) - she tried to sell me a dolphin necklace made out of concrete or shells or something...and then having her reappear at the end of the night when we are getting into a cab...& ken telling her he wouldn't give her money because she was going to buy "crack rock with it".

i love balance in the weird sphere-makes it seem like there is a rhyme (though clearly no reason) to the ambiguity of the everyday.

(that sounded wise-don't be concerned, it wasn't).

a small setback to a great comeback

2007-09-25T02:52:00.000-07:00

while i normally try to refrain from blatantly using quotes here (lies, all lies), i can't help myself on this almost-full-moon-night-1:25-am.

"act out being alive, like a play. and after a while, a long while, it will be true."
john steinbeck, east of eden

one foot in front of the other, it's the only way. even if it's just baby steps (thank you, bill murray), @ least there's movement, signs of life.

working again feels like i can fully inhale for the first time in 4+ weeks. deep breaths, like after a 10k, after you stop feeling like your insides are melting.

oprah-book-club-reading-culture jump off a really, unimaginably tall building. dr. phil? go f*@# yourself. i am going the way of john galt, francisco d'anconia & howard roarke. the road less traveled (cliches are handy, carry this one around with you for quick reference during slumber parties, coffee dates or meetings with relatives you don't like). horatio algers? be damned, man. i want domination, not mediocrity.

i want infamy before ideals, ingenuity more than innocence, ironic intuition above imaginary inertia.
(and also a dictionary that goes beyond the letter "i")

kismet is for the optimist. i'll take failure over fate (& her cold, clammy hands) every day of the week.

being with people who understand you

2007-09-23T18:04:00.001-07:00

priceless

(shut off the radio to listen to the brilliance)

lame with a cape

2007-09-23T04:03:00.000-07:00

categorization, an amateur's guide to identifying types in the city
part 1

*hipsters & scenesters
my definition would pale in comparison to any of the ones found at urban dictionary. these two could be broken into 2 groups, by why waste an unnecessary amount of time here? in general, a group whose identity is defined primarily by the fact that they are NOT, i repeat NOT a group, they are too non-conformist for that. my favorite definition:

listens to bands that you have never heard of. has hairstyle that can only be described as complicated...definitely cooler than you...often complains. always denies being a hipster. hates the word...claims to be in a band... always on the list...name-drops...takes photos of self in mirror, in car, in sunglasses, from above, of boobs, of hips, of feet, of self drinking alcohol, of self making kissy face, of self looking like a hyperactive toddler, of self doing illegal things, of self passed out, of self and friends joined at the head and making faces..best website to better understand scenesters& their copious varieties...actually, just a great place to waste time & laugh..your scene sucks. enjoy

ok, folks. i'm over this concept of type-casting "types". best advice? don't date a type, anyone who clearly fits into any of the above categories...it's a world of nail-biting agitation.

(music that inspired this casting call? new young pony club- now you know everything. goodnight & beware of lame with a cape, which lies waiting for you, around every corner.)

showy shows recap, week of 23.september

2007-09-23T01:06:00.000-07:00

the lucksmiths
23.september
12 galaxies

maps
24.september
bottom of the hill

!!!
the field opens
25.september
mezzanine

midlake
27.september
gamh

i put the "metro" in metronome

2007-09-21T00:56:00.000-07:00

i want to give tonight's concert a proper review, but early meetings in egypt *aka, mill valley* tomorrow, so have to try and bribe myself into sleep with the idea that tomorrow i will give this excellent show it's proper write up (short story? it killed)

highlights to explained later-carlton dancer, lord of the rings guy, 4 bouncers (the biggest man ever with what he called his "3-man back up") following me through the crowd (back to andrew, who probably figured me for dead) to get michael flateley kicked out, heroin chic lead singer with a wicked love of emoting, and with that quality that can only be categorized as "lead-singer-je-ne-sai-quoi"-fell ridiculously in love with him after about four bars...and lame with a cape.

more later, enjoy the ambiguity.

the protaganist suddenly realizes what to do in the middle of downtown traffic

2007-09-19T18:12:00.000-07:00

a true story.

walking to meet rory for lunch, @ a tres chic eatery, le creme-traipsing through the financial district, past all the men in business suits (hotties, no doubt)-and there seemed to be a whole in my belly. a void of sorts. what was it? what was missing?

i need to do something. anything. molly-of-leisure, enjoying her time off is over. i can't sit idly by while the world around collects the exhibition fees to my boredom.

i need to get my core creativity back. it's been on vacation, but time is of the essence.
so i am seeking a way to get pass the road block, bypass the obstruction, jump the wall of my own making.

no more trolling random bands from last.fm. it's time to find the way to make my millions.

have to jet, my life is waiting.

grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...................................

the bleeding heart show

2007-09-18T01:00:00.000-07:00

great times, shitty picture.

the standard people were there...the group in front that knew every word to every song (tragic) pumping their teenbeat fists in the air to every smack of the bass drum (again, no other word but tragic)...pre-pubescent man/boy-mustaches & dried up old dudes...the groupie, whose whole existence is for this one moment-being with the band that defines their identity...

the couples-girl in front, guy in back, his arms wrapped around her while they collectively close their eyes & sway to the melody (at a rock concert, this can prove especially lame-go to sarah mclachlan, tools, or stay @ home & watch the jt special on hbo...geesh)

bearded guys from oregon, web 2.0 posse, the button-ups, aka "oxfords" (NOT gay, they are quick to inform you), angry lesbians, the assailants-with-a-heart (& a tattoo to prove it)...

the whole gang.

showy shows recap, week of 17.september

2007-09-17T00:54:00.000-07:00

the new pornographers
17.september
the warfield

peter, bjorn & john
18.september
the warfield

editors
20.september
the fillmore

arcade fire
21.september
shoreline

pirate's booty

2007-09-16T23:34:00.000-07:00

funny that the word "booty" was originally used by nefarious sea-thieves to refer to stolen property.
& now it refers to asses.
wonder what the OED has to say about that word's evolution.

treasure island show-what to say?
pirate's booty is the best way to sum it up.

unfortunately, for those in the audience, i am insurmountably intoxicated (with the idea of sleep)

my new haircut is machiavellian.
night night.

there's no business

2007-09-15T01:44:00.000-07:00

like show business.
fact.
saw guster, on a whim...because i was tired of cleaning the house for the sister. ..last night of "single" me and that...

it rocked & i got in for free.

some times spontaneity pays off.

(& of course, sometimes it kicks your ass and steals your iphone)

the hero returns, victorious (whew)

2007-09-13T16:06:00.000-07:00

i'm back, loyal fans.

i know the length of my departure was extremely trying on all of you, but know i am truly back-body, mind & spirit & ready to be all yours, once again.

you can sleep easy tonight.

(you're welcome)

& away we go

2007-08-31T00:00:00.000-07:00

here's to trying something new...

backpackers of the world, unite (dios mio, what am i doing)

& no, banana, i didn't sew a flag to my life-on-shoulder-straps (aka backpack).

not yet.

my assault on the world begins now (thank you, lloyd dobler).
(remember to pay the meter)

overheard...& views from the driver's seat

2007-08-27T19:15:00.001-07:00

"i done told you once. stop cryin'" (mom to her 2 year old)

a woman using an eyelash curler (see torture device below) while Driving on the bay bridge.a man or woman (not sure which) dressed like a silver trooper from star wars-counting change from a 7-11 plastic cup.
its been quite a day.

toxic holiday

2007-08-22T20:46:00.001-07:00

so, that's all i have to say...a few random pictures that truly show who the "real molly" is. hope you, dear readers, find these pictures illuminating as to the inner workings of my character. especially the last one...that jackie wong, she's got cred.

write what you know...

2007-08-16T14:16:00.000-07:00

"write what you know, keep the story funny
have a happy ending, make the female sexy..."

so here i am. identity stripped away (note to the gentle reader, one should never base one's sole value on one's work, especially when said work is for the MAN & not for oneself...as it will ultimately lead to a disappointing end, no matter what that end may be)

i am trying to figure it all out-life, liberty & the pursuit of alleged happiness.

i know this is the best thing, but it still feels like someone ripped one of my arms out right at the socket-without any anesthetic-not even a bandaid or some gauze thrown my way to stop the bleeding.

Morose & Depressing, yes.

but as cliche as it is-whatever doesn't kill you only makes you stronger (& no mother, this isn't going to kill me). so my muscles feel stretched out to their limit, it's hard to even lift my arms to type this...but i am getting stronger...i feel deep down this is my superhero transformation period...that this is the part in the movie where the soon-to-be-batman or superman or astroboy get taken to the cave or top of the mountain or scary warehouse to learn how to use their powers for good...

so though i am in the dark, having my body poked & prodded, i will emerge a better person for it all-if not a little wiser for the wear (DAMMIT i am full of cliches tonight...yowza).

on to a brave new world, ladies & gentlemen of the jury...on to world domination & card making craftiness.

see you on the flip side.

a vacation, a vacation from my problems

2007-08-15T05:47:00.000-07:00

KISS MY ASS.

lucky strike no strike back

2007-08-12T23:14:00.000-07:00

so, to be a renegade...a law-breaker, an OUTLAW...

this is really about banksy, because i am not-so-secretly in love with him & more importantly (& ridiculously) his point-of-view on everything (because it makes me laugh & because it's weird). even though people will h8 all over him now because he sells his work to the likes of brangelina, et al-i still think there has to be some non-commercial element to him. cmon, give the guy a break, people...a brotha's gotta get paid! & if it is by doing what he does, live & let die, h8rs!!

vagrantly vinyl

2007-08-11T01:22:00.000-07:00

loud people outside the apt right now, 1:33am...

ana got the placebo, so she is not going to be growing gills during THIS stint @ the nutter clinic.

whew (insert sigh-of-relief here).

so there's that.

& otherwise, not a lot to report from the homefront-other than my new fav band (today, probably will change tomorrow) is a toss up between "nightmare of you" & "say hi to your mom"...despite the desperately lame names, fun songs all around...

you know you are destined for greatness with song names like sweet sweet heartkiller, a kiss to make it better, yeah i'm in love with an android, they write books about this sort of thing & hooplas involving circus tricks (all from say hi to your mom).

it doesn't get much better than that, really.

no great insights other than MAKE SURE TO DOUBLE CHECK the % on your milk-it may seem like it's the right kind (personal preference being "x") because the colour is correct on the lid...but oh, caveat emptor (that's "buyer beware" for you who aren't fluent in latin like me,...yowza)...just because the cap seems dead on, you could have just bought whole milk & be drinking lumpy milkshakes every time you eat cereal (me-all week, ps).

(& no, mother dearest, i am not sad & i promise to ring you first thing in the morning-so for me that means noon!)

sabotage the umbrellas in london

2007-08-05T14:08:00.000-07:00

joe "peppy" peters here, good afternoon friends & fun folk! today is going to be a super swell sensation!

bullshit.

but today will be another day-of THIS reality rita (seen below) is most certain. another day. another day to fight all those smart, witty & very pressing fights...

(ps, reality rita thinks you're all a bunch of mooks for reading this-because you should really have something better to do...but to be perfectly honest, rita is pretty lame herself-thinking about her theoretical fans & followers...she's kind of a hypocrite...let's just ignore her & her judgemental, mid-western state of mind).

your narrator is a little down, due to the very cotton terry cloth-ish sky, the cold shiver-after-a-shower air...and your narrator's neck has hardened candle wax in in or something-or a lead pipe-basically IT HURTS.

well, going to pull out of the gloom-somehow, someway...i think i'll throw darts @ one mr. joe "peppy" peters.

oh, i think i see sun...this ship (of a day) is turning...

press the button

2007-08-01T14:39:00.001-07:00

press the button...c'mon, scaredy cat...you know you want to...

who knows? this could be the one button you have to push to be transported to paradise ever-after...or with just one click you could get your own personal genie that grants you your hearts desires...all of them, not just a measly three...

by just placing your shaky palm on top of it's shiny red goodness, you could end starvation in africa, cure aids, pugnacious politicians would never bore any of us again...your life's one true love, at your doorstep, ready & willing to love you faithfully & fervently for all the rest of your days...

one smack at that plastic mystery-and instantly, the whole world in converse-the shade & design determined by the contents of that person's soul.

(hopefully mine would be hysterical, compassionate, wise, beautiful & kind...but i'd probably get stuck with these-whatever...)

at least you would know right away what someone was like on the inside, you wouldn't have to guess, you could just like down at their feet & WHAM-immediately know if this one is worth your time, or if you should just walk away now...

or, maybe instead of the world in chuck taylors & jack purcells, by hitting that "press me" with all your might, you get to taste only good things...nothing you ever put in your mouth will taste anything less than cordon bleu...every single thing-creamed spinach, beef stroganoff (PUKE), popsicle sticks, other gross stuff -

ALL of it tastes like saturday morning pancakes, with strawberries & whip cream (if that's what suits your fancy)

just one little red button...a button with all the answers...and to think, i found this magic, just by accident...

and all of it's limitless possibilities ran through my mind...

& so i pushed it. with certainty. with force-but not enough to smash it

& then...

meet me here

2007-07-31T23:35:00.000-07:00

"no don't cry, i have to go
i have to go, please don't cry
say goodbye, and don't say no
please don't say no, say goodbye"

don't say no, say goodbye
say goodbye

meet me here, tomorrow the same time"

ah those song-sters. their words are better than mine, most of the time...it's the brevity, it's how the fit all the feelings of the moment fit into 3-4 short stanzas (thank you indie bands)...a chorus that repeats...that you remember, that lives in your head...i would just run around & around trying to figure out the way i want to say what i'm feeling...and then you find the right song for that moment-and you don't have to keep looking.

thanks, song-writer people.

y r.

french phrases for scenesters

2007-07-31T11:09:00.000-07:00

want to appear to know more than you do? want to impress collegeaus, friends, family & fellow coffeehouse posers?

then these french phrases are just for you.

lesson #1 - the art set
so, picture this:

you are invented to attend a gallery opening, peruse a friend's "sculptures", are caught reading your boyfriend/girlfriend's journal...basically you are asked to comment on something you could give a shit about.

here's what you do.

point to some obscure part of the art at hand, and say "this is the pièce de résistance of the entire work". (peace day resistAHnce - molly phonetics, not real-if you want real, go home). it literally means "the best feature"-but by using your new french accent & trendy lingo, it doesn't really matter AT ALL what you say, just the flair with which you say it.

lesson #2 - politiks
you are at a dinner, you are at the gym, you are having cocktails with bourgeouise friends, and some topic related to politics surfaces like an oil spill in alaska. you don't know what they're talking about, but you KNOW they are conservative. the conversation focuses on you...everyone is staring...you have to say something...pull out your scenester french, and you will be everyone's fav political guru.

"well, it's "x's" (society, media, fill-in-the-blank) obvious laissez-faire attitude that is creating this situation".
(lay-say fair)-meaning? having a lenient or indulgent policy toward the actions of others (letting them do whatever they want). so again, this is only to be used with conservatives...or creatively with liberals.

another one that could work here is coup de grâce (coo-de-grA). it means "final blow, finishing strike". used in a sentence...

"i always thought this was a neo-nazi conservative country...but the coup de grâce was when that guy was elected president for a second term."

lesson #3-everyday uses
so here a few bits & bobs to spice up your normal boring conversations...to be used sparingly...don't overdo it, then it will be obnoxiously obvious you got this from a blog, which is a total scenester taboo.

regarding anyone you are talking about behind their back
*je ne sais quoi (je ne say qua...whatever, that looks just like the word, but other than that random "s" on the 3rd word, this one is kind of phonetic, sorry)..."an indescribable feeling or inexpressible something"...this can be good or bad, depends on the context.

*savoir-faire (sav-wa fair) - "know-how" is the real people meaning of this (a compliment)

regarding yourself or describing something your pov (point-of-view)
*raison d'être (rais-on (but really light on that "n" or you sound like you are from the country) day terr)..."reason for being"-good one, use it all the time.

*fait accompli (fay accompli)...done deal, nothing to be done about it now...i guess i tend to lean toward the dark side of french phrases, the ones about "final striking blows", etc...(go figure)

*force majeure (force ma-jor-eh)..."irrestible force or overwhelming power"-no reason, i just really like that one.

ok, enough "conversation stunnahs".

impress your friends. get something good out of it.

you scenester, you...

et voila!

никакая любовь в течение утра

2007-07-27T00:12:00.000-07:00

(no love for mornings-in my native russian tongue)

weather is absolute ass-so foggy its like being covered by a moldy blanket every time you walk outside. the sun comes out for about 30 minutes between 3 & 5 o'clock...and then it's back to blanket town.

nothing fun to report on the world around me-the weather is tugging on my soul...sounds macabre, but really-how much grey & damp/moist (there's that word again) is one supposed to take?

i am dressed in the style of a greek tragedy-all white with gold jewelry...i thought i would try & coax the sun out of its summer siesta.

last friday priya & i got really hyped up with an advanced case of sun poisoning, and took the pictures seen here.

oh, and weekend plans? i plan to hunt the yeti of chinatown & photograph graffiti. it's going to be a wild time in the old town tonight.