Wednesday, October 28th, 2009
3:21 pm
Little Bit in Love
"I try to do art every day."
being an artist is hardly easy, as you get older pressures begin to take over, work, sexlife, dating, even simple things like cleaning and eating seem to take so much time. The tasks never stop coming and the time to do them never seems to catch up.
Traveling the world a concept I had always dreamed of became a reality for me this year. Bangkok once just an unknown universe somewhere in the great beyond is now a second home city. India, once a place I barely dared to think about is now a familiar terrirory complete with expeierences and cultural divides. Phillipines, once a dream location is now a page in my photo album, as well as Thailand and Nepal. After being home a month the dreams are already begining to fade. The bright colors of the sunsets and the feeling of the sand in my toes is already a faint distant greying line in my mind.
In a city where its hard for me to dicipher the jumbled lines that make up my thoughts, the past become irrelivent so quickly.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Backtracking Updates from afar: start
Friday, April 11th, 2008
11:14 pm
start
Heres to another sunset and a long walk into forever watching the shadows dance along the wall outside your window and the wind bat your blinds around.
Nested inside your apartment, under the window,listening to your teenage neighbor play out a angst filled drama on theough her cell phone above us on the firescape.
I spent many a day here with you from 25 to just before my 27th birthday. Bike rides,and garden talk ruled the day. Deep blue eyes and shimmering blonde hair captured my interest like nothing else could. For a while like with everything at first I was happy. Being the inpatient,instant gratification live now think later thrill seeker I am, I eventually forgot who I was there staring into your eyes. Under that window, peaceful, growing older by the day and more and more pissed off at the prospect of marring semi young and cooking dinners and doing laundry for the rest of my life. So obseessed with the complacent tone my life had taken we drank, you got sick and I got tired. I stared no longer at your eyes but at your mouth, forever spewing words I couldnt stand to hear. So angry with the loud sounds that I blocked out thier meaning. Not listening, not feeling, I stumbled through our realationship looking for something. Something to do, something to say, something to make you happy something to make me happy, always something that wasnt there.
So if everything was so lacking why didnt I just leave? After forgetting how to hear you and watching you flail about everyday I missed my own laughter, and my crooked smile. Wishing for the sunshine and free range running within a mile. Living for myself, not worried about my to and fro I found I was so angry and I thought I wanted to go. I stoped looking at all for anything and became so fucking tired. To tired to use my own brain to think and be inspired. Stagnating in my own skin so afraid of any change, wishing for a natural disaster to break through to me again. I missed my funny noises,the way I wear my hair, my favorite dresses and a brand new pair of shoes. All the things that make me who I am where missing for some time lost within our day to day make ups drama and usual bickering. I found our time together straining and it began to take on the tone of a dramatical play/hollywood thriller.
The funny thing is that once I walked away, I took a trip to the japanese bath to sit in the warm watter and steam away my pain. To forget all of the nights I d spent and the days Id wept and remember who I was. I found myself I laughed a little I went home and found again a girl who played and laughed and liked to wiggle. Water trickled down our plants as I srayed them down after the first warm day of summer. All I wanted was you there to tell me which plant to water and which one to mist. To stomp through my kitchen with buckets and kneepads and watering jugs. To eat in my workspace and change my music when I wasnt looking.
I sat in my studio fabric in hand draping and cutting and pinning together. and I thought about how much I wanted to show you what I had created today. As soon as I see myself I want so much to share me, but at the frst signs of judgement or harsh eyes I curl up and shrink away. What a terrible predicament like none Ive ever seen. Something only your heart could dream up and drag you blindly into only to break halfway in and leave your body to fend for itself on the way out. A massive communication breakdown between my heart my mind and my personality they might as well all been running in different directions all at one time.
I heard her voice on your answering machine a few days later, and that is when I knew it was really over. I had been so stupidly preoccupied with everything that was wrong I forgot to stop and take another look at what was really going on. Life is one damn shady road with lessons at every turn and once you think youve got it mastered another ugly slap in the face makes itself relivant. I shouldve just taken what we had at face value and never tried to change, gone about my business and kept revisiting my sanity everynow and then. It was to easy to become consumed by your fits, and energy your endless rants and raves. All the while never wanted to engauge. I realize now because I felt to juded at everyturn I never really became comfortable with you, or let you in at all. I found you untrustworthy and scary and I kept things that way. I hid inside confused and troubled and amazed at the sizable situations I had gotten in. With my heart peices ratteling inside me wishing for all this change I find myself again alone in the night wondering why in the hell is hindsight always 20/20? You caught me at an impressionable time however, your mid twenties can sometimes prove to be a huge disapointment.
I remember my 25th birthday realizing I had reached my expiration date. Dressed in my burlesque costume parading around the huge warehouse in the industrial district of San Francisco. Yelling and waving my arms above my head and dealing with every problem you could imaging that goes right along with throwing a huge rave for yourself on your birthday. Staring blankly into faces all night wishing I was somewhere else. Listening to the music rattle off the brick walls and out the heavy metal doors. Watching everyone I knew come,stand,talk about each other, make thier way to the bathroom to add white rings to the bottoms of thier nasal cavities and then come out and do it all over again for hours. This is the basic anatomy of a party in San Francisco.
Wishing all night Olliver would stopp playing 80;s music and lay off popping muscle realaxers for his broken sternem and contaning Jason who had ODed on the floor before the party even began. Watching my date show up with another woman and realizing that it was all over. The party was about to die, and I was about to launch into real life without a parachute.
My burlesque troupe was a high point, spanning my early twenties with performace, and dance. Gold lamay and a reputation for sex on wheels. We toured and shimmed our way into many high paying gigs. Glittered myself up and fake tanned away any imperfections and strode onto the stage with my happy face on through many a hung over evening. We were the talk of the underground. I was a mess. No one belives how much of a mess I had truely become because on the surface I had perfected the art of entertaining. Hosting parties at my house and being seen at all of the best events in town. Which in San Francisco is a full time job in itself.
The potlucks on tuesday at my house were always full in attendance and rich with the young and highly pretentious. Doing blow off of each other in the bathroom and spilling wine all over my kitchen floor on a tuesday night till 3am. These were the wonder years, were everyday was a new one and working as a barmanager and entertainer went seamlessly together to form one amazing alter ego persona. You lack the ability to look past next week in your early twenties and live in a blissfull bubble of happy party times and sudden jolts of terror when someone speaks of getting old. Even though you dont yet understand what getting old could mean at all. Changes come and go and everyone seems to roll right along with them. Midnight motorcyle rides from bar to bar end in sinny dipping at any apartment complex you can enter with the delivery food guy. Working is just something I did at the bar anyway and slowly I began to feel like once again something. That something was missing. What the hell am I looking for all the time. In perfectly clear and easy situations I find myself searching for an out, or a ladder to the roof.
All of the party people started to loose thier glitter, bags under eyes showed more than not and finding myself on the street at 8am on a monday dressed in a floor lenghth gown and a fur stole was commonplace. My sunglasses hid my eyes as my crew abided by a set of rules made available to only the priveleged few. Always be headed to a hide out by 430 am. Hideouts were houses,flats,lofts,places with hottubs and soft sleeping areas. Never a warehouse,or another party. No decent socailite would be seen at a party in public after 430 am. This was silly, everyone starts to look bad after hours of drinking and dancing around on cement floors. Often we took victims from parties with us for sexual needs when leaving venues. Sometimes two or three girls at a time. Those times called for bigger places such as the Anton Levay house, or someones three story loft with rooftop hottub. There were never a shortage of parties and never a shortage of shady bastards waiting for the opportunity to have me and my ontourage use thier home as a landing strip.
We always got at least some sleep, absoulutely no cocaine at this time even though it had at one point been a huge factor in my energy past 8am everyday. Massive ingestion of booze was mandatory and ofter excessive. Drugs were always around, but often used as a tool to entertain one of us. You could become the focus of jokes if you couldnt handle your high so everyone was wary of doing drugs with one and other. It was on the surface every young girls dream. Free entry to any club free drinks and dancing when ever we wanted, girls boys and any place in the city at the snap of a finger or the drop of a hat.
11:14 pm
start
Heres to another sunset and a long walk into forever watching the shadows dance along the wall outside your window and the wind bat your blinds around.
Nested inside your apartment, under the window,listening to your teenage neighbor play out a angst filled drama on theough her cell phone above us on the firescape.
I spent many a day here with you from 25 to just before my 27th birthday. Bike rides,and garden talk ruled the day. Deep blue eyes and shimmering blonde hair captured my interest like nothing else could. For a while like with everything at first I was happy. Being the inpatient,instant gratification live now think later thrill seeker I am, I eventually forgot who I was there staring into your eyes. Under that window, peaceful, growing older by the day and more and more pissed off at the prospect of marring semi young and cooking dinners and doing laundry for the rest of my life. So obseessed with the complacent tone my life had taken we drank, you got sick and I got tired. I stared no longer at your eyes but at your mouth, forever spewing words I couldnt stand to hear. So angry with the loud sounds that I blocked out thier meaning. Not listening, not feeling, I stumbled through our realationship looking for something. Something to do, something to say, something to make you happy something to make me happy, always something that wasnt there.
So if everything was so lacking why didnt I just leave? After forgetting how to hear you and watching you flail about everyday I missed my own laughter, and my crooked smile. Wishing for the sunshine and free range running within a mile. Living for myself, not worried about my to and fro I found I was so angry and I thought I wanted to go. I stoped looking at all for anything and became so fucking tired. To tired to use my own brain to think and be inspired. Stagnating in my own skin so afraid of any change, wishing for a natural disaster to break through to me again. I missed my funny noises,the way I wear my hair, my favorite dresses and a brand new pair of shoes. All the things that make me who I am where missing for some time lost within our day to day make ups drama and usual bickering. I found our time together straining and it began to take on the tone of a dramatical play/hollywood thriller.
The funny thing is that once I walked away, I took a trip to the japanese bath to sit in the warm watter and steam away my pain. To forget all of the nights I d spent and the days Id wept and remember who I was. I found myself I laughed a little I went home and found again a girl who played and laughed and liked to wiggle. Water trickled down our plants as I srayed them down after the first warm day of summer. All I wanted was you there to tell me which plant to water and which one to mist. To stomp through my kitchen with buckets and kneepads and watering jugs. To eat in my workspace and change my music when I wasnt looking.
I sat in my studio fabric in hand draping and cutting and pinning together. and I thought about how much I wanted to show you what I had created today. As soon as I see myself I want so much to share me, but at the frst signs of judgement or harsh eyes I curl up and shrink away. What a terrible predicament like none Ive ever seen. Something only your heart could dream up and drag you blindly into only to break halfway in and leave your body to fend for itself on the way out. A massive communication breakdown between my heart my mind and my personality they might as well all been running in different directions all at one time.
I heard her voice on your answering machine a few days later, and that is when I knew it was really over. I had been so stupidly preoccupied with everything that was wrong I forgot to stop and take another look at what was really going on. Life is one damn shady road with lessons at every turn and once you think youve got it mastered another ugly slap in the face makes itself relivant. I shouldve just taken what we had at face value and never tried to change, gone about my business and kept revisiting my sanity everynow and then. It was to easy to become consumed by your fits, and energy your endless rants and raves. All the while never wanted to engauge. I realize now because I felt to juded at everyturn I never really became comfortable with you, or let you in at all. I found you untrustworthy and scary and I kept things that way. I hid inside confused and troubled and amazed at the sizable situations I had gotten in. With my heart peices ratteling inside me wishing for all this change I find myself again alone in the night wondering why in the hell is hindsight always 20/20? You caught me at an impressionable time however, your mid twenties can sometimes prove to be a huge disapointment.
I remember my 25th birthday realizing I had reached my expiration date. Dressed in my burlesque costume parading around the huge warehouse in the industrial district of San Francisco. Yelling and waving my arms above my head and dealing with every problem you could imaging that goes right along with throwing a huge rave for yourself on your birthday. Staring blankly into faces all night wishing I was somewhere else. Listening to the music rattle off the brick walls and out the heavy metal doors. Watching everyone I knew come,stand,talk about each other, make thier way to the bathroom to add white rings to the bottoms of thier nasal cavities and then come out and do it all over again for hours. This is the basic anatomy of a party in San Francisco.
Wishing all night Olliver would stopp playing 80;s music and lay off popping muscle realaxers for his broken sternem and contaning Jason who had ODed on the floor before the party even began. Watching my date show up with another woman and realizing that it was all over. The party was about to die, and I was about to launch into real life without a parachute.
My burlesque troupe was a high point, spanning my early twenties with performace, and dance. Gold lamay and a reputation for sex on wheels. We toured and shimmed our way into many high paying gigs. Glittered myself up and fake tanned away any imperfections and strode onto the stage with my happy face on through many a hung over evening. We were the talk of the underground. I was a mess. No one belives how much of a mess I had truely become because on the surface I had perfected the art of entertaining. Hosting parties at my house and being seen at all of the best events in town. Which in San Francisco is a full time job in itself.
The potlucks on tuesday at my house were always full in attendance and rich with the young and highly pretentious. Doing blow off of each other in the bathroom and spilling wine all over my kitchen floor on a tuesday night till 3am. These were the wonder years, were everyday was a new one and working as a barmanager and entertainer went seamlessly together to form one amazing alter ego persona. You lack the ability to look past next week in your early twenties and live in a blissfull bubble of happy party times and sudden jolts of terror when someone speaks of getting old. Even though you dont yet understand what getting old could mean at all. Changes come and go and everyone seems to roll right along with them. Midnight motorcyle rides from bar to bar end in sinny dipping at any apartment complex you can enter with the delivery food guy. Working is just something I did at the bar anyway and slowly I began to feel like once again something. That something was missing. What the hell am I looking for all the time. In perfectly clear and easy situations I find myself searching for an out, or a ladder to the roof.
All of the party people started to loose thier glitter, bags under eyes showed more than not and finding myself on the street at 8am on a monday dressed in a floor lenghth gown and a fur stole was commonplace. My sunglasses hid my eyes as my crew abided by a set of rules made available to only the priveleged few. Always be headed to a hide out by 430 am. Hideouts were houses,flats,lofts,places with hottubs and soft sleeping areas. Never a warehouse,or another party. No decent socailite would be seen at a party in public after 430 am. This was silly, everyone starts to look bad after hours of drinking and dancing around on cement floors. Often we took victims from parties with us for sexual needs when leaving venues. Sometimes two or three girls at a time. Those times called for bigger places such as the Anton Levay house, or someones three story loft with rooftop hottub. There were never a shortage of parties and never a shortage of shady bastards waiting for the opportunity to have me and my ontourage use thier home as a landing strip.
We always got at least some sleep, absoulutely no cocaine at this time even though it had at one point been a huge factor in my energy past 8am everyday. Massive ingestion of booze was mandatory and ofter excessive. Drugs were always around, but often used as a tool to entertain one of us. You could become the focus of jokes if you couldnt handle your high so everyone was wary of doing drugs with one and other. It was on the surface every young girls dream. Free entry to any club free drinks and dancing when ever we wanted, girls boys and any place in the city at the snap of a finger or the drop of a hat.
Backtracking Updates from afar: Summer Stories
Sunday, July 8th, 2007
11:39 am
Summer Stories
Summer again with the sunshine and intermitten cloudy windy fog ridden nights that make you wonder what is this place San Francisco. A place so bizare even the weather patterns are queer...devoid of traditional seasons its hard to get a tan and wearing a scarf in july is commonplace. My wool mini shorts and legwarmers make me warm and yet in a wierd way still dressed in summer esk garb.
I watch the pavement fade away underneath my bike wheels these days. Long silent rides across the city watching the traffic and the hills come and go. Listening to the gears click and the chains mash around my body from one intersection to another to the end of the city and the beach to the end of the trail and to the parking lot. Inhaling the exhausted reminants of the speedy cars and passing the bus on its melodramatic public transit routine. Every once in a while Im joined by other bike riders with squinty eyes and silent stares passing each other in the network of bike lanes and after work commutes. But I am a rouge. Just a rider not a fanatic. I dont have toe clips, trendy jeans,a bike lock hanging out of the back of my pants or a key around my neck. I dont drink at the bike bars and I dont have a memership. So they pass by we dont recognize each other and we never will.
I interact with people but have lost my ability to fake it. I cant hold your attention any more and wait anxiously for the moment when I can sit behind my sewing machine alone listening to the whir of the engine, mesuring fabric and cut lines. These things are boring to the general populus and my stories of bar shinnanigans have been replaced with techinical terms and threads hanging from my jeans in the oddest of places. I cant remember some of the "good times" so well anymore. Lately Ive noticed that I barely remember at all the list of things I used to do and places I went.
11:39 am
Summer Stories
Summer again with the sunshine and intermitten cloudy windy fog ridden nights that make you wonder what is this place San Francisco. A place so bizare even the weather patterns are queer...devoid of traditional seasons its hard to get a tan and wearing a scarf in july is commonplace. My wool mini shorts and legwarmers make me warm and yet in a wierd way still dressed in summer esk garb.
I watch the pavement fade away underneath my bike wheels these days. Long silent rides across the city watching the traffic and the hills come and go. Listening to the gears click and the chains mash around my body from one intersection to another to the end of the city and the beach to the end of the trail and to the parking lot. Inhaling the exhausted reminants of the speedy cars and passing the bus on its melodramatic public transit routine. Every once in a while Im joined by other bike riders with squinty eyes and silent stares passing each other in the network of bike lanes and after work commutes. But I am a rouge. Just a rider not a fanatic. I dont have toe clips, trendy jeans,a bike lock hanging out of the back of my pants or a key around my neck. I dont drink at the bike bars and I dont have a memership. So they pass by we dont recognize each other and we never will.
I interact with people but have lost my ability to fake it. I cant hold your attention any more and wait anxiously for the moment when I can sit behind my sewing machine alone listening to the whir of the engine, mesuring fabric and cut lines. These things are boring to the general populus and my stories of bar shinnanigans have been replaced with techinical terms and threads hanging from my jeans in the oddest of places. I cant remember some of the "good times" so well anymore. Lately Ive noticed that I barely remember at all the list of things I used to do and places I went.
Backtracking Updates from afar: Call the Fire Department
Wednesday, January 10th, 2007
1:45 pm
Call the Fire Department
What to do when your down to your last 100 bucks your boyfriend has a girlfriend and your christmas tree has been laying in the street for going on a week?
I suggest going to a loud rock show with your last fiver and promptly getting wasted with your friends till the bar closes....then making your way home to take out your aggression on the unsuspecting Christmas leftovers sitting on the street near your home.
That's right get a compadre and a few beers and light that fucker up....its the best entertainment you can't buy anywhere. Proceed inside and commence blasting loud 80's hits and fucking until you sleep through your alarm and whamo you've got yourself one great morning coming. The pics are priceless Ill tell you.
Only bad thing is.... How can you go through with your planned break up with someone when they wield the lighter and take charming photos of you standing in front of your fiery masterpiece.
1:45 pm
Call the Fire Department
What to do when your down to your last 100 bucks your boyfriend has a girlfriend and your christmas tree has been laying in the street for going on a week?
I suggest going to a loud rock show with your last fiver and promptly getting wasted with your friends till the bar closes....then making your way home to take out your aggression on the unsuspecting Christmas leftovers sitting on the street near your home.
That's right get a compadre and a few beers and light that fucker up....its the best entertainment you can't buy anywhere. Proceed inside and commence blasting loud 80's hits and fucking until you sleep through your alarm and whamo you've got yourself one great morning coming. The pics are priceless Ill tell you.
Only bad thing is.... How can you go through with your planned break up with someone when they wield the lighter and take charming photos of you standing in front of your fiery masterpiece.
Backtracking Updates from afar: HOME
Wednesday, August 23rd, 2006
2:34 pm
HOME
Sometimes in the depths of being an adult I walk down the street and listen to my friend wishing he could just go home. I wish I could jut hide for a week at my moms he says and let her take care of me. Like when I was a kid.
A truer statement has never been made. I find myself this week after the month of stress created by my birthday party which in my eyes was a total flop. I m left with an overwhelming sense of fatigue and sorrow. A void created not only by the fact that I turned a year older last weekend but also by the lack of caring and consideration showed to me by my so called friends at the party.Growing older you start to realize how truely fake and uninteresting people are. How personal goals take presidence over simple human niceties and people become goblins of greed scorging the earth for money and fame.
Ive never wished I could go home more than this week. Ive spent a few hours curled in my bed trying to sleep and going over the events of saturday night wishing with all my heart I had just cancelled the party before it became the monstrosity is was. Im glad my stint as a promoter and party hostess is over but I stand alone now scratching my head at the wierdness of the whole situation. I was once so excited about throwing parties so into it so involved spending countless unpaid hours roaming the streets passing out flyers and chatting up strangers .. now I find the general public a nusance and an overated sorce of aggrivation. When did I change? When did it change? and Why? Why do I want to hide now more than ever? When will it be fun again?Will it ever or are my days of socialite status over? Im 25 now and still silly as ever confused and lost in a sea of greedy over active crazy people. I cant swim with the sharks anymore I most certainly dont desire to be one so what now?
2:34 pm
HOME
Sometimes in the depths of being an adult I walk down the street and listen to my friend wishing he could just go home. I wish I could jut hide for a week at my moms he says and let her take care of me. Like when I was a kid.
A truer statement has never been made. I find myself this week after the month of stress created by my birthday party which in my eyes was a total flop. I m left with an overwhelming sense of fatigue and sorrow. A void created not only by the fact that I turned a year older last weekend but also by the lack of caring and consideration showed to me by my so called friends at the party.Growing older you start to realize how truely fake and uninteresting people are. How personal goals take presidence over simple human niceties and people become goblins of greed scorging the earth for money and fame.
Ive never wished I could go home more than this week. Ive spent a few hours curled in my bed trying to sleep and going over the events of saturday night wishing with all my heart I had just cancelled the party before it became the monstrosity is was. Im glad my stint as a promoter and party hostess is over but I stand alone now scratching my head at the wierdness of the whole situation. I was once so excited about throwing parties so into it so involved spending countless unpaid hours roaming the streets passing out flyers and chatting up strangers .. now I find the general public a nusance and an overated sorce of aggrivation. When did I change? When did it change? and Why? Why do I want to hide now more than ever? When will it be fun again?Will it ever or are my days of socialite status over? Im 25 now and still silly as ever confused and lost in a sea of greedy over active crazy people. I cant swim with the sharks anymore I most certainly dont desire to be one so what now?
Backtracking Updates from afar: Ninja Tuxedo and the traveling chocolate show
Monday, July 24th, 2006
2:31 pm
Ninja Tuxedo and the traveling chocolate show
Sometimes life throws you a series of events that are so far fetched even talking about them makes you feel like your in a movie. This weekend on top of being the hottest weekend of the summer was one of those adventures.
After spending a long sweaty afternoon in my friends upstairs apartment trying to drink and smoke away the heat. Records threatening to melt on the turntables and headphones bonded to my head with sweat. My phone started buzzing. The event of the evening is getting set up and Im late as usual..."the white chocolate is being poured into the pit and your not here." Im informed. My cue to pack up my records, finish my drink and high tail it down to the Supper club to start organizing the costumes and wrestlers for the white chocolate syrup wrestling show going on later that evening.
This event is a little different though because not only are we doing an event that night in SF but our tour bus is parked out back of the supper club and we are scheduled for another bout of chocolate wrestling the next night in LA. This means that at 4-am after a long night of wrestling in the sweet sticky ooze... we are 10 chocolate covered travelers loading onto the tour bus and driving all night to LA to make it happen all over again the next night.
The club was full. People were drinking and eating all along the walls on their white beds shoeless and dancing around other peoples tables on the floor. The chocolate ring was in the middle of the club filled with godiva white chocolate syrup waiting for the show to start. Spotlights were cued people were waiting and I made my way upstairs with the costumes and started dressing girls for the show. The dressing room was a mix of circus and stage. Everyone dressed in white for the event. Make up and hairspray were in the air and glitter was the theme of the evening. My head was spinning by the time I got down to the main floor with my glass of champagne to watch the matches start.
Sitting with the band off to one side I watched as my friends got sloppy and the mess that is chocolate syrup wrestling began to seep out over the edges of the pool. Cheering drunk patrons of the club were up in there chairs or bedside seating pumping fists and laughing watching the rounds on the projection screen above their heads. We are all smiles and the show goes on...as I became the human canvas.
Seated on a large platform in the middle of the club right next to the ring the chocolate painting began. Me a spotlight one pair of hot pants and two pasties the painter started painting. The chocolate was warm and gooey and once applied to my skin began to instantly harden into a chocolate crust. He painted trees and leaves on my back and around my chest the whole thing being projected above me on the screen so I can see myself close to naked covered in chocolate paint as its happening. I giggle and laugh as the paintbrush strokes tickle me and the chocolate smell intoxicates me. The band begins playing and the painting continues roses are brought to me by band members and girls in short dresses come down to poke their fingers in my mouth with more chocolate and kiss away the art in progress. I cant stop giggling. The painting is finally over and Im left covered in chocolate art a living canvas behind the band as they perform. Walking through the club to the backstage area I am attacked by groups of people wanting pictures and tastes. A strange ordeal for a strange girl Im thinking as a group of six iranian women my mothers age are pressed up against my chocolate skin squealing for pictures and poking me while giggling.
After scrubbing the hardened chocolate art off and returning to my job as stylist/stage manager I circulate through the club watching the matches and the club slowly becomes one big sticky chocolatey mess.
Out back sipping Don P and smoking later that evening suitcase packed and equipment being loaded in the tour bus we laugh and smell the fresh air. Girls giggling and sniffing each others chocolate sent. The club closes and we board the bus. Ten of us ready for an adventure.
That begins with one of the boys playing with the hydraulic jacks and knocking the tour bus around in an attempt to "drop it like its hot" eventually breaking one of the jacks. After about twenty minutes of trying to break the jacks off the vehicle and being unsuccessful someone crawled under the bus and kicked the jacks back under the bus thus enabling us to drive forward once again. The bus smelt like burnt rubber and as the smoke cloud was clearing we pulled away from the club and made our way to the freeway.
Sleeping in the back suite with the air conditioning blasting I wake up to 106 degree weather and the city of Los Angeles unfolding in front of me through the front window of the bus. Music blasting tour bus rocking we make our way into the valley first stop the venue for the show that night.
Opening the door from the air conditioned tour bus to the 106 degree surface of the sun landscape was less than fun. Instantly covered in sweat we step out of the bus and stand in front of the venue. Mouths fall open as we walk past piles of trash up as big as me piled along the outside of the warehouse.
"This doesn't look good" The inside of the warehouse is covered in trash as well not to mention dirty mattresses and tweakers seem to be dwelling in the sweltering corners of the place. Instantly appalled by the mess at hand I decide that Its time for me and the girls to do some costume shopping.
If you've never been to a thrift store in LA I highly recommend it.. They have some of the best thrift stores ever. Mostly designer stuff for super cheap and little to no competion. Its a veritable cornucopia of rad clothing.
We spent an hour or so sifting through for costumes and ended up with three more outfits for the show. Satisfied with our costume situation and alot more time to kill in 106 degree weather before the show we decide to do what any one with half a brain in the heat would do. Make our way to the STANDARD and sit by the rooftop pool drinking champagne until the boys were done cleaning out the sweltering pit of doom we were using as a venue that night.
Surrounded by fake tits tanned skin and men that looked like they should all be on a magazine cover somewhere. We soaked in the pool and danced around on the roof sipping champagne and wishing the day would never end. The pool-side cabanas with waterbed seating inside were busy with laughter and giggles as we fraternized with male strippers from reno and the music blasted around us. Down below us on the main street a huge techno party was setting up people milling about in anticipation of the evenings event unaware of the party on the roof staring down at them.
We watched as the sun disappeared slowly from the rooftop and the we began to dress ourselves again talking about the nights activities while wishing it would cool down just a bit.
Once back at the venue everyone was greeted by the boys sweaty, dirty and anticipating our arrival. The warehouse was clean however and the chocolate pool was being filled with air. The place was starting to look like a party and not just some dirty hole in the valley. The costume room was upstairs and I began my task of organizing and setting up the dressing room sweat pouring down my face. As the night began to fall we were all on last minute set up duty tacking up projection screens and sound checking, posting signs on the street where there weren't any and hauling booze to the bar.
I slipped into my disco ball gown purchased at the thrift store earlier that day,applied my makeup, pomp-adored my hair and it was show-time.
Interviews in the back and girls covered in chocolate running through the warehouse..my job to keep them wrestling in different outfits I watched as the costumes went from clean pristine to chocolate mess on the floor. Naked skin went from white to candy covered and the night went on. My friend at the shower was spraying the chocolate covered people in the face and watching the hipster LA hair cuts fly. Everyone was sweaty the chocolate was flying through the air along with the occasional pair of panties and people were screaming with pleasure.
The last round finally over we packed up the booze and what was left of the costumes ourselves and one of the cutest wrestling girls we could find and made it out to the tour bus. Interviewing on national radio in the front seat as the booze and craziness continue on the bus. I laugh as the police are cruising around outside the bus probably trying to make heads or tails out of the mayhem we have created outside the venue.
We make our way tour bus rocking booze flying downtown to a loft apartment where we commence drinking laughing our asses off and reveling in our chocolate madness.
In front of a stove at 6-am in a chocolate spattered gown with some of the best friends I have helping cook omelets for the crowded loft I look out onto a sleeping sunday morning in LA. I think to myself what a wonderful life it is and how privileged I am every day I am alive to be surrounded by such happiness and insanity.
Showering and passing out in a heap never felt so good. In the arms of a friend comforted by the air-conditioned atmosphere I slept. Awakened by the sounds of someone rushing to the airport to catch a flight we begin to wake up. Make our way back to the bus and realize that we now have a tour bus full of liquor trash and the leftovers of one really fun long hot weekend.
We spent our last day in LA on the beach in Venice shopping sleeping in the sun and drinking ourselves stupid. Avoiding the long drive back for as long as possible.
Drinking and laughing all the way home we rolled on the floor posed in the windows flashed passerby's in traffic and watched the hills in bakersfield aflame around us. Ninja Tuxedo high kicks became our mating call and vodka crans became the only thing to drink. Music blasting singing along to the tunes I looked around and my heart was warm. Smiles and laughter till our sides ached and we couldn't laugh anymore as dusk approached we opened the windows and sat on the outside of the sill waving at the other cars on the highway. Snapping pictures of each other and wishing that a fast food places would serve us food as we walked through the drive through.
Once home still feeling the tour bus moving under my feet as I tried to take a shower I couldn't get the happy grin off my face. What an adventure what a weekend and most of all what a crazy group of people I know. I love you. Until next time.
2:31 pm
Ninja Tuxedo and the traveling chocolate show
Sometimes life throws you a series of events that are so far fetched even talking about them makes you feel like your in a movie. This weekend on top of being the hottest weekend of the summer was one of those adventures.
After spending a long sweaty afternoon in my friends upstairs apartment trying to drink and smoke away the heat. Records threatening to melt on the turntables and headphones bonded to my head with sweat. My phone started buzzing. The event of the evening is getting set up and Im late as usual..."the white chocolate is being poured into the pit and your not here." Im informed. My cue to pack up my records, finish my drink and high tail it down to the Supper club to start organizing the costumes and wrestlers for the white chocolate syrup wrestling show going on later that evening.
This event is a little different though because not only are we doing an event that night in SF but our tour bus is parked out back of the supper club and we are scheduled for another bout of chocolate wrestling the next night in LA. This means that at 4-am after a long night of wrestling in the sweet sticky ooze... we are 10 chocolate covered travelers loading onto the tour bus and driving all night to LA to make it happen all over again the next night.
The club was full. People were drinking and eating all along the walls on their white beds shoeless and dancing around other peoples tables on the floor. The chocolate ring was in the middle of the club filled with godiva white chocolate syrup waiting for the show to start. Spotlights were cued people were waiting and I made my way upstairs with the costumes and started dressing girls for the show. The dressing room was a mix of circus and stage. Everyone dressed in white for the event. Make up and hairspray were in the air and glitter was the theme of the evening. My head was spinning by the time I got down to the main floor with my glass of champagne to watch the matches start.
Sitting with the band off to one side I watched as my friends got sloppy and the mess that is chocolate syrup wrestling began to seep out over the edges of the pool. Cheering drunk patrons of the club were up in there chairs or bedside seating pumping fists and laughing watching the rounds on the projection screen above their heads. We are all smiles and the show goes on...as I became the human canvas.
Seated on a large platform in the middle of the club right next to the ring the chocolate painting began. Me a spotlight one pair of hot pants and two pasties the painter started painting. The chocolate was warm and gooey and once applied to my skin began to instantly harden into a chocolate crust. He painted trees and leaves on my back and around my chest the whole thing being projected above me on the screen so I can see myself close to naked covered in chocolate paint as its happening. I giggle and laugh as the paintbrush strokes tickle me and the chocolate smell intoxicates me. The band begins playing and the painting continues roses are brought to me by band members and girls in short dresses come down to poke their fingers in my mouth with more chocolate and kiss away the art in progress. I cant stop giggling. The painting is finally over and Im left covered in chocolate art a living canvas behind the band as they perform. Walking through the club to the backstage area I am attacked by groups of people wanting pictures and tastes. A strange ordeal for a strange girl Im thinking as a group of six iranian women my mothers age are pressed up against my chocolate skin squealing for pictures and poking me while giggling.
After scrubbing the hardened chocolate art off and returning to my job as stylist/stage manager I circulate through the club watching the matches and the club slowly becomes one big sticky chocolatey mess.
Out back sipping Don P and smoking later that evening suitcase packed and equipment being loaded in the tour bus we laugh and smell the fresh air. Girls giggling and sniffing each others chocolate sent. The club closes and we board the bus. Ten of us ready for an adventure.
That begins with one of the boys playing with the hydraulic jacks and knocking the tour bus around in an attempt to "drop it like its hot" eventually breaking one of the jacks. After about twenty minutes of trying to break the jacks off the vehicle and being unsuccessful someone crawled under the bus and kicked the jacks back under the bus thus enabling us to drive forward once again. The bus smelt like burnt rubber and as the smoke cloud was clearing we pulled away from the club and made our way to the freeway.
Sleeping in the back suite with the air conditioning blasting I wake up to 106 degree weather and the city of Los Angeles unfolding in front of me through the front window of the bus. Music blasting tour bus rocking we make our way into the valley first stop the venue for the show that night.
Opening the door from the air conditioned tour bus to the 106 degree surface of the sun landscape was less than fun. Instantly covered in sweat we step out of the bus and stand in front of the venue. Mouths fall open as we walk past piles of trash up as big as me piled along the outside of the warehouse.
"This doesn't look good" The inside of the warehouse is covered in trash as well not to mention dirty mattresses and tweakers seem to be dwelling in the sweltering corners of the place. Instantly appalled by the mess at hand I decide that Its time for me and the girls to do some costume shopping.
If you've never been to a thrift store in LA I highly recommend it.. They have some of the best thrift stores ever. Mostly designer stuff for super cheap and little to no competion. Its a veritable cornucopia of rad clothing.
We spent an hour or so sifting through for costumes and ended up with three more outfits for the show. Satisfied with our costume situation and alot more time to kill in 106 degree weather before the show we decide to do what any one with half a brain in the heat would do. Make our way to the STANDARD and sit by the rooftop pool drinking champagne until the boys were done cleaning out the sweltering pit of doom we were using as a venue that night.
Surrounded by fake tits tanned skin and men that looked like they should all be on a magazine cover somewhere. We soaked in the pool and danced around on the roof sipping champagne and wishing the day would never end. The pool-side cabanas with waterbed seating inside were busy with laughter and giggles as we fraternized with male strippers from reno and the music blasted around us. Down below us on the main street a huge techno party was setting up people milling about in anticipation of the evenings event unaware of the party on the roof staring down at them.
We watched as the sun disappeared slowly from the rooftop and the we began to dress ourselves again talking about the nights activities while wishing it would cool down just a bit.
Once back at the venue everyone was greeted by the boys sweaty, dirty and anticipating our arrival. The warehouse was clean however and the chocolate pool was being filled with air. The place was starting to look like a party and not just some dirty hole in the valley. The costume room was upstairs and I began my task of organizing and setting up the dressing room sweat pouring down my face. As the night began to fall we were all on last minute set up duty tacking up projection screens and sound checking, posting signs on the street where there weren't any and hauling booze to the bar.
I slipped into my disco ball gown purchased at the thrift store earlier that day,applied my makeup, pomp-adored my hair and it was show-time.
Interviews in the back and girls covered in chocolate running through the warehouse..my job to keep them wrestling in different outfits I watched as the costumes went from clean pristine to chocolate mess on the floor. Naked skin went from white to candy covered and the night went on. My friend at the shower was spraying the chocolate covered people in the face and watching the hipster LA hair cuts fly. Everyone was sweaty the chocolate was flying through the air along with the occasional pair of panties and people were screaming with pleasure.
The last round finally over we packed up the booze and what was left of the costumes ourselves and one of the cutest wrestling girls we could find and made it out to the tour bus. Interviewing on national radio in the front seat as the booze and craziness continue on the bus. I laugh as the police are cruising around outside the bus probably trying to make heads or tails out of the mayhem we have created outside the venue.
We make our way tour bus rocking booze flying downtown to a loft apartment where we commence drinking laughing our asses off and reveling in our chocolate madness.
In front of a stove at 6-am in a chocolate spattered gown with some of the best friends I have helping cook omelets for the crowded loft I look out onto a sleeping sunday morning in LA. I think to myself what a wonderful life it is and how privileged I am every day I am alive to be surrounded by such happiness and insanity.
Showering and passing out in a heap never felt so good. In the arms of a friend comforted by the air-conditioned atmosphere I slept. Awakened by the sounds of someone rushing to the airport to catch a flight we begin to wake up. Make our way back to the bus and realize that we now have a tour bus full of liquor trash and the leftovers of one really fun long hot weekend.
We spent our last day in LA on the beach in Venice shopping sleeping in the sun and drinking ourselves stupid. Avoiding the long drive back for as long as possible.
Drinking and laughing all the way home we rolled on the floor posed in the windows flashed passerby's in traffic and watched the hills in bakersfield aflame around us. Ninja Tuxedo high kicks became our mating call and vodka crans became the only thing to drink. Music blasting singing along to the tunes I looked around and my heart was warm. Smiles and laughter till our sides ached and we couldn't laugh anymore as dusk approached we opened the windows and sat on the outside of the sill waving at the other cars on the highway. Snapping pictures of each other and wishing that a fast food places would serve us food as we walked through the drive through.
Once home still feeling the tour bus moving under my feet as I tried to take a shower I couldn't get the happy grin off my face. What an adventure what a weekend and most of all what a crazy group of people I know. I love you. Until next time.
Backtracking Updates from afar: Lost Something You Cant Replace
Tuesday, June 27th, 2006
11:37 am
Lost Something You Cant Replace
In recent days past I have been hiding. Hiding my lack of interest in this city I live in. Hiding my distrust of everyone and most of all hiding myself from the endless flocks of attention hungry people that populate my life.
I don't want to hide anymore Im tired and bored with keeping my real self separated from my social life. I don't want to be a socialite anymore I could care less about what party we went to last weekend what party were going to this weekend and what drinks you spilled on the girl next to you who your sleeping with or who you cheated with. What color your new BeBe purse is and what time you'll be stopping by the bar. Parties are fun but hardly make up a relationship called friendship. Drinking and going to bars is great but alcohol isn't meant to hold together our social structure! I cant hear you in the bar its too loud.....so when should we talk? When can I get to know you really?
I want genuine people.... are there any in this place? I want to talk about simple things sunshine,cards,chess games,sandwiches,music, planting flowers and fabric colors...loving each other and making the world a better place some way any way we can. My priorities have been skewed in the last year...wasted words and energy on garbled wasted people waiting for any opportunity to lie cheat and steal their way into my good graces. Who are you people I 've just realized I don't really even know any of you. I've been so high and disconcerned with it all that I never bothered to ask...of course we were always so wasted and surrounded by swirling clouds of cell phone jitter and hangover shakes there was never anytime to really get to know each other. Sick of the disrespect and lack of caring surrounding me, I've turned around going down a new path which coincidentally led me right back home. Right back to where I started reminding me that we may live in a city but there's no need to act like the concrete buildings that surround us. It pains me deeply that so many have taken the attitude that nothing matters and life is shit. Under the false impression that its okay to steal cheat and lie to people and then just blow it off, not talk to them for a while. Waiting resurface and smile in their face and act like nothing ever happened months later. Everything you do matters.....every-time you fuck some one over it matters every-time you spew shit out of your mouth to hurt someone else it matters. Every-time you don't care and turn away it matters.
It matters to someone like me who tries their hardest not to let you in because your not worth it anymore. You've scared my very being taught me to hate,sneer,claw and dagger my way to the top and be unhappy. To close off myself and feel trapped. To only let you see what I want you to. Its no way to be a person. I am a silly heart, softee with feeling and sense chasing butterflies and staring into space any chance I get wishing I could interrupt your boring rants about who's who and what's what with candy hearts and naked enthusiasm who wants nothing more than compassionate people I can count on to roll in the grass with, share adventures and laughs that will out number the trials and shitty things that life throws us. If we have that then there is no time to worry now is there?
11:37 am
Lost Something You Cant Replace
In recent days past I have been hiding. Hiding my lack of interest in this city I live in. Hiding my distrust of everyone and most of all hiding myself from the endless flocks of attention hungry people that populate my life.
I don't want to hide anymore Im tired and bored with keeping my real self separated from my social life. I don't want to be a socialite anymore I could care less about what party we went to last weekend what party were going to this weekend and what drinks you spilled on the girl next to you who your sleeping with or who you cheated with. What color your new BeBe purse is and what time you'll be stopping by the bar. Parties are fun but hardly make up a relationship called friendship. Drinking and going to bars is great but alcohol isn't meant to hold together our social structure! I cant hear you in the bar its too loud.....so when should we talk? When can I get to know you really?
I want genuine people.... are there any in this place? I want to talk about simple things sunshine,cards,chess games,sandwiches,music, planting flowers and fabric colors...loving each other and making the world a better place some way any way we can. My priorities have been skewed in the last year...wasted words and energy on garbled wasted people waiting for any opportunity to lie cheat and steal their way into my good graces. Who are you people I 've just realized I don't really even know any of you. I've been so high and disconcerned with it all that I never bothered to ask...of course we were always so wasted and surrounded by swirling clouds of cell phone jitter and hangover shakes there was never anytime to really get to know each other. Sick of the disrespect and lack of caring surrounding me, I've turned around going down a new path which coincidentally led me right back home. Right back to where I started reminding me that we may live in a city but there's no need to act like the concrete buildings that surround us. It pains me deeply that so many have taken the attitude that nothing matters and life is shit. Under the false impression that its okay to steal cheat and lie to people and then just blow it off, not talk to them for a while. Waiting resurface and smile in their face and act like nothing ever happened months later. Everything you do matters.....every-time you fuck some one over it matters every-time you spew shit out of your mouth to hurt someone else it matters. Every-time you don't care and turn away it matters.
It matters to someone like me who tries their hardest not to let you in because your not worth it anymore. You've scared my very being taught me to hate,sneer,claw and dagger my way to the top and be unhappy. To close off myself and feel trapped. To only let you see what I want you to. Its no way to be a person. I am a silly heart, softee with feeling and sense chasing butterflies and staring into space any chance I get wishing I could interrupt your boring rants about who's who and what's what with candy hearts and naked enthusiasm who wants nothing more than compassionate people I can count on to roll in the grass with, share adventures and laughs that will out number the trials and shitty things that life throws us. If we have that then there is no time to worry now is there?
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