June 08, 2006


my skin is warm and slightly moist. i use ticket stubs as bookmarks - nice little memorandums - bookmarks for my literature and external activities. while i lounge back on my couch, reading and slacking away the evening, i paste the stubs to my chest using the warm suction of my own body. i don't know why, but i get such a kick out of it.

May 23, 2006

not a vulcan

i have a bit of a headcold. mostly a stuffy/runny nose, nothing so terrible, but i'm not terribly pleased with it, either. i recently got a memory upgrade for my computer. now, i would like to install it, but at the same time, i'm thinking i had better wait till i feel better. so i don't getting any germs in my computer when i open it up. and i know that sounds absurd, i really do. but i still think it would be best if i held off a while.

May 17, 2006

like a literary Travis Bickle

i am so horribly mutable. anything i read strikes through me like a lance and i'm left even thinking in the words of the author. this, more than anything, is why i tend to read so very much meaningless crap - i'm much less susceptible to its mediocre influences. unfortunately, tonight, i picked up lady chatterly's lover, determined, finally, to put a positive dent in it. the mood is all depressed rejection of humanity and wistful lonliness. now, i am a cynic when it comes to people, a coward when it comes to love, and a depressive when it comes to la, but all in small quantities, which are sadly amplified by the malaise of the title character. i feel like sighing and languishing quietly somewhere, or else running out into the night to visit a planter of jasmine - all in full bloom - that i noticed on campus today. (fact: jasmine smells best at night.) best i just go to bed, though, not let it get to me. the pre-dawn songbirds are just beginning to go nuts.

April 14, 2006

dream men

i had a dream over christmas break - i was in a satanic cult. i had been accepted into college on a minority scholarship and moved into a special minority dorm with turquoise walls and religious overtones. i didn't really fit in, though, not having been raised in a disadvantaged background, not being black or overtly hispanic. the only friend i made within the first few days was the maid, an older hispanic woman who never went to college, herself, and was very encouraging to the tune of getting good grades and graduating is the only thing. within a few days, i moved out of that dorm and into a satanic coed frat. the head of it was an aleister crowley-type older man with a foreboding air and ambiguously extant evil powers. he lead the little coven. surprisingly, i did have friends among the worshippers. there was a repentant and trapped-feeling ex-christian girl who had given up her faith and a slightly overweight girl who was wicked, but not precisely evil. neither were really into that whole satan-thing, though.

we were sent by the old man to fetch some sacred coins. they fit into a grey stone wall carving in the lower levels of the frathouse. four more (or so) were needed to open the seal and unleash evil. eeeevil. as a new intitiate and a very promising convert, i was sent to collect one of the remaining coins. it was nestled within a bible, atop an ancient bell in an outdoor alcove of...the minority dorm. gasp! so i had to sneak back in, which wasn't too difficult, since i had lived there once upon a time. i got into the strange exposed rectory without any trouble - i was stopped by the housekeeper, who i think was chatty and possibly religious at me, but in a friendly, inspirational way - and i found the bible. i had to lean out of a window, and possibly climb something, as well, to get to it atop a very large, old corroded iron bell. the coins were inside as well as a couple of large bills with a curse to the effect of, "whosoever taketh..." (biblical curses are always written in an archaic and flowery way) "...this stuff...is cursed pretty bad for greed. seriously." death death doom doom. i really don't remember what it said, just that it was very foreboding. i took everything out of the bible, replaced the book and headed out unchallenged.

as i was heading back, i was struck with overwhelming doubts. about damnation and demons and evil magicks. i think, while i still didn't believe in god and the devil, i was afraid that assembling the coins would release something very bad, and i was also not unconcerned with my own fate concerning the curse. but it was too late and i was already in the room with the coven leader when i got to that conclusion. so he took the stuff, and i freaked out and begged him to at least put back the money. he praised my insight - best not to bring a curse down upon us for simple greed when there were greater plans yet to be laid. he took the coin from me.

i was walking back from the dorm and i ran into someone i had known from earlier, my time in the first dorm, i suppose. he was actually the dream image of my overweight christian neighbor from freshman year. in my dream he was a smug, self-satisfied preachy christian i disliked thoroughly. then i was back with the satanists and it was night and we were having an amusing event. the entire frat was shooting things at a christian frat or dorm (the details in this part are really choppy and fuzzed now) using a giant slingshot. it's also possible we were swinging on a giant swingset and jumping off, landing blocks away. whatever. it was fun and team-building.

the next day, i was walking back from class beside an above-ground parking lot and i saw a guy who caught my eye. a very good-lookin' black man. something about him sort of called to me and i approached him and asked to walk along with him. he was goin' my way (his car was parked somewhere on the street toward my frat). we walked together and talked. turns out, and i suspected this more before he said it, he was a dissatisfied christian, like, seething with rage at god, for some reason. we talked as we walked. i thought to get him to join me and the satanists, so he could help me defeat them. as we walked, we ran into my two satanist friends, who were, i'm afraid, vandalizing his car. i had them stop and switch to the car of the obnoxious christian guy i disliked, parked nearby.

just as my companion announced he was renouncing his faith, i threw my arms around him in an impetuous, flirty hug. and i froze. he felt just like home. warm comfort and calm, perfect chemistry. and i'm sure he felt it, as well, as we just stood there frozen for a moment. then i woke up slightly and my arms were circling nothing in my bed. i couldn't get the dream out of my head all day. i was left dazed and wistful and confused.

this afternoon, i took a nap. i had a long, elaborate dream i didn't quite remember upon waking, but the last moments are clear in my mind. i had been in bed on one side of a room, and i got up for some reason. instead of going back to bed in my own bed, i crossed the room and laid down behind the guy sleeping in another bed there. just as i put my arms around him, i forcefully woke up. felt a little bit lost for the next hour. it just made me think of the earlier dream, i don't know. they're awfully sad.

(and i really don't know what my thing is with the devil. i am all weird dreams.)

April 11, 2006


my family has one long-standing, rather charming, loosely-held yearly tradition. very specific category, no? ever year or so, we will all drive down to a little farming town along the central coast and pick berries at a farm that seems to do amazingly good business making tourists pick their own produce. we gather a couple of flats of ollaliberries, or my favorite, blackberries. mm-mm-mmm. i always get very competitive and brag to my father about my greater speed and bucket full of riper fruits. look, it's a wholesome family activity and it's very difficult to sex up that subject any.

anyway, the result of all this farm family fun is jars and jars of momma's lovely homemade jams. and they're not restricted to berry types - she will buy plums and strawberries and peaches and reduce them all into tasty poultices to be spread on toast. i don't eat jams very often, as i infrequently consume toast at home, but i'm an absolute fiend for mother's brilliant concoctions. this first came about when i was quite young and mother got her hands on some plums. oh my god, the plums. she made a delictible plum jam that rocked my tiny, prepubescent world. since then, i'll go through phases in which all i can think about is mother's jam. this will include nights when i'll go to bed with a jar of jam, a box of saltines, and, of course, a knife and i'll kick my legs and giggle.

while home for spring break, my mother raved to me the virtues of jam mixed in with plain yogurt. i tried it. it was tasty. i stole the largest jar of strawberry jam off the counter and shoved it in my carryon. i had plans of yogurt and jam and ice cream and jam and spoonfuls of jam shoved into my mouth and savored. well, long story short, the lam broke somehow on the plane, but i could not bring myself to toss it. such good jam. so, i shoved the jar in the fridge, and waited for my will to break. it did. i bought some plain yogurt and emptied all the jam into a bowl. first couple of times i had jam with things, there were no glass shards in - lucky me. and such tasty jam, i still could not bring myself to dispose of it. i knew it was only a matter of time before my love of jam would cause me bodily harm. so tonight, when i made myself a big bowl of jam and yogurt, i was not surprised when i fished the shard out of my mouth. i was a bit shocked that i hadn't cut myself. good luck. i did the best thing possible under the circumstances of addiction - i asked for help. i admitted i didn't have the power to help myself and i put the situation into somebody else's hands. i asked kat to save me from myself - from my love of jam. she emptied the jar into the disposal, and i was freed of my dangerous addiction. sure, i did get my mother to send me another jar of her pectin love, but this one does not have glass inside, so it's okay.

in light of this, i'm amazed i haven't died from some crazy obsession of another. massive tongue lacerations, perhaps. god, mmm, i just had some jam and yet i crave more. more tasssssty jam.

April 08, 2006

indistinct mutterings to describe my day

thursday was a bad day for dietary health. sure, i did have a salad for lunch, but my dinner was: a large stack of pringles, several ginger cookies, a couple handfuls of chocolate covered raisins, a quesadilla, 5 shots of jaeger. (from that list you can probably divine my activities for the evening. fermenting on the couch and then a party?)

after such a productive and healthful day, i decided to go for a walk. to borders many, many blocks away to buy a shakespeare play. after a couple rejections (would you join me? would you join me? no.), i struck out on my own. i ran into daphne (will you join me?) by wilshire, but she had things to do. i got as far as the movie theater a block before the store. it was 5:15, the next showing was 5:20, and i had been wanting to see thank you for smoking. so i bought a ticket and sat down in the nearly empty theater. very pretty interior - very old glam hollywood - completely out of place in new, trashy la. to give you an idea, i think it was situated between a psychic and a bargain vet. the movie was v. good. towards the middle end, it threatened to get sentimental and prosaic, which would have destroyed the entire appeal of the scrupleless lobbyist, but it turned it around in the end. it was slightly anticlimactic, but it ended on a strong joke, so i forgave the movie. many v. funny lines. and the film was a testament to the beauty and glory that is bs. how could i not appreciate that? when the movie let out, it was amazingly still light out. thank you, freaky, unnerving daylight savings time!

went the rest of the way to borders to discover they were out of the play i needed. how can a bookstore run out of a shakespeare play?? alright, sure, i know this wasn't one of the more popular ones, but still. you're a bookstore, have some class. walked back and stopped to buy a mango. last one i got was pretty ripe. actually sweet, soft; not perfect, but it was still a pretty freaking good mango, made all the more tasty by the fact it had been many months since my last tasty man-go. this batch, in comparison to the last, looked pretty pathetic, though. all hard, still mostly green. i grabbed what looked like the best option and was on my way again. (oh, i did pay for it, of course.) with mango in purse, i made the somewhat tedious trek uphill to my apartment.

i was on my way, when some guy, who i had noticed in passing walking antiparallel, crossed over to me. he told me he thought he had seen me on campus several times - in kerchkhoff, right? i replied, yes, i spend some time there. and we struck up a conversation of rather animated, and on his part slightly effeminate, small talk. and then he invited me to dinner. his treat. i tried to resist - i just wanted to get back to the apartment and tear into my high hopes mango - but he would have none of it. he wheedled, and, since he was offering to pay, i finally relented. like, meh, alright, i'll make a new friend. so we dined on, at least for my part, slightly watery undercooked ravioli and a big, plain salad, and made eager conversation which, unfortunately, got less interesting as the meal wore on. he kept praising me for my cool spontenaity. damn straight. and trying to make tentative plans with me to go clubbing, visit santa monica pier, go out to other dinners, go to bars, buy me a particularly tasty lemon drop (martini, duh) somewhere or other, and get coffee some time. gaah! also, it came out he was straight, damn you, faulty gaydar, also, did he not lament guys did not hit on him earlier in conver...what? was that just an inept joke? so, good, guy i have no interest in is making "plans" with me. finally, i was making bored faces, being ever so bad at concealing "emotion," and he graciously decided he was through with his dinner, having only a little salad left, anyway. so we walked back toward the spot where he had accosted me in the first place, and i gave him my phone number, doubtful i would actually keep up the association for much longer, anyway. but i did agree to meet him on campus for coffee on tuesday. i figure, i'll give him another chance to wow me conversationally.

went back to the apartment and finally did get to eat my mango, which turned out to be underripe. great, underripe fruit equals the runs. i finished it all, of course, as it was still almost okay tasting, and also, i'm painfully cheap. then, curled in my blankey and watched tv the rest of the evening (new dr. who is pretty good - i wish i had seen old dr. who), rather amazed at my day. it was mostly good times, and i did have me an adventure. (all my most satisfying adventures seem to happen when i'm all alone.) but, mostly, i feel slightly amazed about my day. like, hunh. hmm. oh.

March 28, 2006

rat trouble

as my parents picked me up from the airport, my mother warned me, "at home, don't eat food that has fallen on the floor." which seemed a stragne warning. but she went on to inform me that the house, as well as the houses on either side of us, are infested with rats. last time we had rats, my parents went a little crazy, setting traps all over the kiten and garage, and doing strange dances of glee whenever one of the traps snapped. not my most exciting adventure with rats, however.

two thursdays ago, i was coming out of a rather difficult test - identify various dead and stuffed birds and mammals that have been laid out on tables for me - and found a white rat snuffling around the sidewalk just beside campus. i stopped to stare at it in surprise and it came up to me and sniffed my shoe. so i took it home.

walked from campus to my apartment with the little guy nestled on my chest. it was very sweet and docile. no, it did not bite me. when i got back to my apartment, it climbed up to my shoulder and burrowed into my hair. please, make jokes about my fuzzy hair being a rat's nest. i woke kat up from her nap to warn her i had brought home an animal. practically the first thing she said in her groggy state was, "does it have fleas?" oh. i hadn't thought about that. i worked the thing out of the tangle that was my ponytail and put it in a bag with some lettuce and a carrot. then i went and scrubbed every inch of exposed skin and resolved to shower. great, paranoia. when kat wakes up and makes disbelieving noises at me. suggests i move the rat somewhere bigger. we empty the drawer in our "media cabinet" and line it with newspaper (finally a use for the piles of newspaper we've been accumulating for months) and place the rat in it's temprary enclosure. we both camp out in the living room for the evening, every so often our eyes sliding to the rat box. i obsessed over my rash deed all evening, in the process bitching to just about everyone online. fortunately, gloria knew someone with an empty cage. she gave me his number and moments laater, i was out on the street walking past clusters of partygoers to procure a place to put my new critter. i had to walk back to my apartment carrying the large neon cage through the revellers, as well. i hoped desperately i wouldn't run into anyone i knew, it was one thing that my friends abstractly knew the story, quite another for someone to see me carrying that thing - don't wanna put a visual to that sort of insanity. the cage was a crazy thing that used to hold mice. had two levels and the entire thing turned like a running wheel. we put the rat on top with the food dish and water bottle, but it was too timid to use the tiny tunnel. kat tried to make the rat more comfortable by disassembling the cage and reconstructing it in various, roomier configurations. the wheel on it's side atop a pad of newspaper. the wheel, open and in a larger box. the platform in the box with a homemade bed of cardboard and cloth. finally, she gave up and put the rat back in the reconstructed cage. it slept hunched on the platform inside the food dish.

the next morning i woke up with a rat in my apartment and a sense of dread obligation. every morning it was in my apartment was a day i began stressed out. she thought i ought to release it, let it live a free and ratty life, no matter how short, but i couldn't consciounably do it. it was a snow white rat, bred in captivity, probably raised in a lab, and there are hawks on campus - i've seen them. it's basically the least cryptic animal ever. i half-hid the cage in the big box and put it on the balcony during the day and let it inside at night, with the large box upended over the cage to block the light from our late night revelries. the third day, i put the rat in the bottom half of the cage that she could get some exercise, and she finally learned to use the tiny, narrow tunnel. we got some amusement watching the critter awkwardly crawl through the tiny passage.

that sunday, kat drove me and the rat to an animal shelter. two, actually, as we discovered the first did not service our particular district of westwood. in both places after i had put the box containing the animal on the counter, the attendant asked me whether the rat was dead. i found that a bit peculiar. do i look like someone particularly prone to dropping off dead rats at shelters? or perhaps it's simply policy to ascertain vivacity when the animal is not in plain view. at the second place, the woman asked me to place the box containing the rat on the ground after she discovered it held a rat (ewwwwww!). unreasonably prejudiced broad. not too hard to believe. during its visit, kat was too cautious to touch the rat directly for fear of disease. i was as well, but mostly out of paranoia, as i was certain, irrationally certain the rat was perfectly healthy. still am. good thing the apartment came with a box of latex gloves. i have to say, kat was great about it, though. we left the rat with the shelter. that night, i cleaned and returned the cage. not to its owner, but his neighbor, who was home. so now, there is a good-sized contingent of people out there - the friends i've told, the strangers who have heard, and the people kat complained about her wacky roommate to - who think i'm irrational and strange. great, i'm the weird chick with the rat. but, i just have a soft spot in my heart for things that scurry. so think me strange and crazy, but at least i chocked up a great big hunk'a karma.