Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Exit strategies

What should you do if a half-naked man comes up and sits next to you on the bench where you are reading?

Nothing. He will eventually give up and walk away.

Nothing left to say

I finally finished my piece with my friend Nano from Sweden. We actually choreographed it quickly, it just took so long to find times we could both meet. Also, it felt like a long time coming since the original theme for the piece was choreographed for a class over a year ago.

Now that it is done, I am not sure what to do with myself. There is a huge letdown when you are finished with a piece; you no longer have that creative need driving you to wake up and go. I said what I needed to say. Three people heard me say it.

It will probably never get performed as Nano is back in Sweden. It is nice to have the video so I always have access to the choreography, but watching dance on video just doesn't work. (Dance that was not choreographed for film.) There is a physical energy emanating from the dancers that fills the room and penetrates the viewer. So I have the steps, but I no longer have those feelings. It's like talking to someone wearing sunglasses.

I've really got to find a new drug.

Monday, December 29, 2008

I'm not that short

I keep dreaming that I am accidentally eating shrimp. I've had three shrimp dreams in the past two weeks. I hate shrimp, and almost everything from the ocean except salt. I often dream of food; I can figure out most of my dreams. I cannot figure out the shrimp. Feel free to interpret.

Saturday, December 27, 2008

Do over

I hate my room i hate my room i hate my room i hate my room i hate my room i hate my room i hate my room i hate my room i hate it hate it hate it hate it HATE IT.

It has very little to do with the fact that it is perpetually teetering on the edge of being a domestic disaster, and more to do with the fact that it all came together by accident. I like pink fair enough. I like green, even the occasional loud and bossy chartreuse. I hate these colors together. How did they manifest in my personal space??!! Wendy spent the night last night so I could take her to the airport early in the morning. I could barely manage to get myself to shut up and lie down because I was so disgusted by my room. I feel entirely misrepresented. I have decided to ignore the fact that I desperately need new clothes (A sweater? why on earth would I ever own a sweater? More than one pair of pants?) and am finally going to fix my stupid ugly room.

It feels superfluous, but as Wendy stated, "It's where you sleep. That can't be good." Yeah, I may still walk around looking poor and busted, but what is the point of nabbing all those hotties when I have no appropriate place in which to seduce them? Have you seen my car? Lets be serious. I am out of options.

This is possibly the dumbest post ever. Whatevs. 2008 is over, bizatches.

Friday, December 26, 2008

Stand Up

The Not Rape Epidemic, by Latoya Peterson of Racialicious.com.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

Friday, December 19, 2008

Back and forth

I don't remember the month or year. But I do remember: It was my second time riding with Critical Mass. Emily and I lived on Butler. Wendy and I had not yet started documenting lunch breaks. My bike had not yet been wrecked. I did not yet know this bike was secretly destroying my knees. The rich young mexican had not yet fallen in love with me. The rich young mexican had not yet fallen out of love with me. The artist hadn't hidden my name underneath layers of paint. I didn't know his name. Valerie had not drawn Jaune. Lauren had not yet come over with three pints of Ben&Jerry's. Chris had not yet been hit by a van. I did not have a car. I did not have a cellphone. Eugene was already pushing his younger brother through school. He still hasn't come to see me in California, as he is still afraid of being swallowed up by an earthquake. Emily and I had already played innumerable games of Would You Rather and What Words Do You Smell Like. Aaron had not yet slept over. I was still being paid to price back issues of Spider-Man. I was already learning flamenco. Was I still cutting my own hair? I hadn't tried to disappear into the Pacific. I had already written its poem.


Are you angry? Punch a pillow. Was it satisfying? Not hardly. These days people are too angry for punching. What you might try is stabbing. Take an old pillow and lay it on the front lawn. Stab it with a big pointy knife. Again and again and again. Stab hard enough for the point of the knife to go into the ground. Stab until the pillow is gone and you are just stabbing the earth again and again, as if you want to kill it for continuing to spin, as if you are getting revenge for having to live in this planet day after day, alone.

(from The Shared Patio; a short story in No one belongs here more than you. by Miranda July.)

Emily gave me this collection of short stories for Christmas. Already, by page 4, it was exactly what I wanted.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Fails; wins.

Last night I was standing in a cold, wet, and dark parking lot. But I had fresh pineapple, which is like sunshine in your mouth. Also, and old man with a mustache and trucker hat ran and jumped onto his shopping cart so he could ride it to his car. He even yelled "wheeee."

I put the wrong key in my sports bra before jogging this morning, thereby locking myself out of the house. But before going jogging I had unlocked the balcony so I could set out a creeping plant my friend gave me. I like the feeling of breaking into my own apartment.

I do not enjoy Christmas music in stores. I did, however, enjoy dancing unabashedly to Last Christmas by Wham! on the way home from aforementioned jog. Yes, I do have Last Christmas in my iPod.

I DVRd The Darjeeling Limited. It is not as good as I had hoped. But Jason Schwartzman can do no wrong for me. He's like Kate Winslet in that I still love everything he does, even in movies I dislike. Except I don't want to make out with Kate Winslet. I think.

Monday, December 15, 2008

These shoulder pads are so huge because they are full of wisdom.

When you see me carrying around a small stuffed animal, make sure you ask me about it!

Oh! When those boys were trying to talk about their feelings I should have interrupted them to go change my underwear. You know, because it was making me so hot. Talk about hard science. My life is forever changed. I am not being sarcastic. If I were being sarcastic a man would never want to put a baby inside me.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Weekly discoveries and affirmations:

- Chocolate cake and a pretty dress can fix most problems.

- My youngest brother may, in fact, miss me.

- There are opossums skulking around LA. I dislike them.

- California Love is still pretty satisfying.

- Jeans should never be shopped for amidst menstruation, no matter how urgent it seems.

- I am above accepting charity friendship. I am not above accepting charity underpants.

- Doing something you hate can occasionally make you happy.

-Que se dan los milagros.

-There is purpose in the asking.

-He has counted our tears.

Thursday, December 11, 2008


Next Wednesday night, African dance class in Culver City. Let me know if you want deets. Gotta pray with those hips and thighs.

You ain't ever tell a lie.

Girls make deposits. Boys make withdrawals.

Friday, December 5, 2008


My best friend drove all the way down from SF this afternoon just to cheer me up. She talked smack with me at the dance studio, and went to eat late night dinner with me and Emily at Swingers. And then she threw up on the sidewalk.

It was awesome.

I love her.




When i was five I used to pick up snakes. I was never bitten.

(I so badly wanted to write "I never got bit." I felt like my mother would disapprove. It still sounds better, though.)

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

New Moon

A new moon means no moon
in a sky that can't atone
for a naked woman sleeping
suspended there alone

if she waxed full
i might ask her
things to stars unknown:

did the sun offend you
does his warmth burn you
is this why you hide?
is that why you grasp in darkness
pulling at the tide?


are there hands that mend
what mouths break
a god that gives
what others take
gluing capillaries to veins
and veins to heart
warm palms to push
and make it start

how easy it would be
if moonlight were glue

but there is no moon
the moon is new

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Saturday, November 29, 2008

While walking up a borrowed coastline

for miles and miles
clutter the pavement like
filthy sapphires
stumbling between feet as i walk
past the woman
skin like
folded driftwood
staring out lost
at sea
over waves glittering with
like the rings my mother gave me
(which are also lost)
i wear too many clothes and
take off my hat
to push back hair
which sticks to my face like
warm amber
the boy on the motorcycle
looks at me for three seconds
too long and
blossom in my cheeks
while the old man
peeling a cucumber
(and all my coy verses)
row after row of
imperfect ivory
(like the keys of the piano under which
all the baby mice died.)

Chewy, by Marilyn Minter.

Friday, November 28, 2008

Wouldn't it be easier to say

that I'd seduced a catholic priest?

Thursday, November 27, 2008

As a matter of fact

- Wendy and I walked through a vortex between the sixth and seventh block of Pacific Street.

- The fifth block of Pacific Street smells curiously of birthday candles, but only uphill.

- A lack of the right words makes you walk as if navigating spider webs.

- I don't take what isn't given.

(art by Junko Mizuno.)

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

No Context

Sara: It's times like these that make me regret not properly learning to play my banjo.

Grant: Instead you're staring at hundreds of boxes of Fiddle Faddle, through the windows of the 99cent store.

I was trying to explain my brother Grant to someone last night. I finally settled on "a blustery victorian gentlemen." But with a mild case of Tourettes. Grant always manages to say something completely inappropriate.

Thus far:
"I have to say, I'd really like to snack on Will Smith."

"Eden, stop crossing yourself in front of churches; it's totally inappropriate. Just kidding, cross yourself all you want."

"This movie will give you your period."

"Breakfast is always better with a handful of santos watching."

"I can almost touch his part!"

"Go get her! He got her. Boom goes the dynamite."


Tuesday, November 25, 2008


This morning at 7am my little brother Mitch called me. (First off, Mitch rarely calls, second, everyone in my family knows not to try to talk to me before 10am.)

Mitch: Hello, Sara. How many crows would you say is a scary number of crows?

Sara: Uhm. More than forty?

We are used to huge numbers of crows, starlings, etc, swooping down into our yard and zooming off. However, Mitchell was unprepared for the THOUSANDS of crows that suddenly covered our entire street. He sent me this cool picture. He was mildly terrified.

This is all the creepy Southern Atlantic Magic I miss while being on the West Coast! Geez. I guess they were finally migrating? Also, I hope they were actually the souls of thousands of dead people. Migrating.

We hope you turn blue!

The poetry SMACK! at Felice's was awesome. I found some new favorites, for sure. I always forget how much I dig poetry, until there it is, making my hands sweat and my face flush. It's super sexy, even when it doesn't have anything to do with sex. Language-- so hot right now!

Monday, November 24, 2008

Give me


(Click for full view.)

Sunday, November 23, 2008

A word of caution:

Don't try to make left turns late at night while singing to Beyoncé-- you will totally get in a wreck. I didn't, but you might.

Also, don't drive if you are seeing sparkles.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

I don't want to be your ( ), I just want to be your ( ).

My older brother Sam keeps insisting that all matters of love and romance would become smooth sailing if I would just invoke the power of Michael Bolton. So here is my ode to the man, the legend, the Soul Provider.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Remember how

you've had moderately to severely persistent asthma since the age of two? Yeah, don't go ride your bike ten miles through a bunch of smoke.

Friday, November 14, 2008

Small Victories; Huge Losses.

So I realize my blog tends to wade in the melancholy end of things, so I thought I would make a list of a few of the things that made today great.

- Didn't leave my bed until ten am. Hooray the flexibility of a hobo life.

- Surprise nine dollars left in my checking account. Hooray Poom Thai lunch special!

- Was still so hyped over yesterday's rehearsal that I was choreographing in the shower. When the Lord said that Heaven was better than we could even imagine, did He realize that we could find a way to combine water, dancing, and nudity on Earth?

- Told Em I was bored at the studio; asked her to bring brownies, diet coke, and gossip. She did. Friendship!

- The return of Sparklepants. Dax is right, if more people were like her, our country would be a much better place.

- I missed the ice skating, but was able to ride my bike to Renee's after work. Hot chocolate, hot people, merkins, and slumping. Circle slumping, even!

- Riding downhill, the whole way home.

- Came home and read this anecdote on a message board. Please note the second incident. Power shift!

My feminist high didn't last long, however.

I checked Jezebel, and immediately read this. Allah save us. Seriously. Your daughters are in need of some serious avenging. Soon, soon, soon.

Monday, November 10, 2008

The Mourning After

My bed is full of weeping girls.

What exactly does that mean, feng shui-wise?

Saturday, November 8, 2008


You won't regret it.

(Photo by Marja Rawlings.)

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Starry Starry You, Starry Starry Me

Dance making, and by extension creating, is like walking out under a vast night sky. First there is just you, and an infinity of stars. But then you start to connect one star to another, and then another. You begin to form constellations, and suddenly there are patterns, stories, and meaning. Even the empty places are ignited with purpose and potentiality.

There you are, in the midst of everything.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008


I am not usually very public with my politics. but i just need to express how happy i am to be alive for this. I grew up with open-minded and loving parents. My hardships in the realm of civil rights and racial equality have been few.

I am just a small white girl from the South.

But I just have to say.

I am so happy I helped elect our first black president.

Monday, November 3, 2008

But all I had to give was the guilt for dreaming.

Sometimes God doesn't answer my prayers right away. Sometimes he just sends David Bowie songs in the interim. I suppose I am grateful. I am also thankful for three hour dance classes where I have to completely let go of everything outside and just focus on pushing my body through and beyond pain. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. Thank God.

Friday, October 31, 2008

Thursday, October 30, 2008


Last night I dreamt I was having sex with Heath Ledger. It got kind of awkward when I told him I was sorry he died. It got even more awkward when he turned into John Lovitz.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Halloweeeeeen, and the Art of Expression.

My BFF Valerie and I are really into finding cool comic chicks. She sent me a link to this girl's blog today. Her name is Kate Beaton, and she's pretty great. Observe:

(click to enlarge.)

Her blog.
Her website.

We also had a conversation like so:


yea, what chicks comin outta the woodwork
we MUST be PARTY to it

omg, she is so funny
i love it

yea, its always Half inspiring, half kick-in-the-ass to come across a chick like this


(Insert convo about our own top secret projects here)

oh man, i cant read any more of this chicks stuff, she is stealing my material... talking to saints
course mine was for a more linear situation in the justin book, which i havent drawin in ... in ....weeks.. months..
i cant tell if her website is inspiring or depressing

pssht, whatever miss pixar.

im not asking for PITY
man, this is nuts though how much these online comic people put out.
what the crap.
though.. when you do it for a job all day, it makes things different
but the paycheck is a nice trade-off


cause... eating is good too

it's so funny
artists are hilarious
it doesnt matter how successful you are
or how happy
when you see something that is cool
it always makes you go
"oh geez! dang it! how did they do that?! i need to do that!"

haha, yea its true
its this need to constantly be part of the self-expressing i guess

i was explaining that to my friend jacob.

maybe its narcissistic

eh, only a little
i think it is more
"wow, they are saying what i was trying to say!"

but there is a feeling like, if you dont make anything for a while you are slacking off on your destiny
or your mission


(Please also note that we consistently type our laughter like super villains.)

Support Families.

Watch The Xtacles on Adult Swim (Cartoon Network), on Sunday November 9th.

Then my brother can keep his job and feed his family.

Monday, October 27, 2008

Peppermint soap

is sensational.

Sunday, October 26, 2008

To Do:

1. Propose untraditional marriage.

2. Relocate cervix.

3. Get lost in Culver City.

4. Chocolate lava cake with raspberries.

5. Recount life story, in sixty minutes or less.

6. Discuss the Underpants Problem.

7. Go to sleep satisfied.

8. Go to sleep with hope and assurance.

With Wendy as my witness.

Sometimes being an adult is pure suck. But sometimes, like tonight, it means leaving your house at eleven eleven pm in your dead grandmother's cardigan, sitting in a diner for over two hours with your best friend, and emptying every chamber of your heart onto her plate.

(Trust is the angels that fed the handless maiden pears from the King's orchard in the medianoche.)

Saturday, October 25, 2008


boy - clothes + cookies = CHRISTMAS?!

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Grocery Shopping

i said your name
by mistake

and spontaneously burst
into tears
in the grocery store
in the produce section

as an eighties power ballad
plays polaroid
of the break up


I left my wallet
in the car
asked the cashier to
hold my things

and drove home instead
holding it
in my mouth


Monday, October 20, 2008

A gentle reminder to self,

on this the first day of our period.

Do not go to the municipal swimming pool. The lady at the front desk will ask to see your student ID, and you will show it to her. But then she will flip it over and ask why you don't have a current semester sticker. You will try to explain that they have never sent you your stickers to prove current enrollment; not since two years ago. She will then do her job, shake her head disapprovingly, and tell you that you need to get your stickers. You will assume she thinks you are lying, and get incredibly attitudinal. She will then ask if you are a resident, and you will say yes, but then realize you left your driver's license at home, because that is how you roll. The lady will again take pause, as is procedure, and you will become a martyr and declare that you will just go home and get it for her, since it is sooooo important. You will balk at her authority, and throw a molotov cocktail in her face.

Well, maybe not that last part, but you will want to. Then she will let you in "just this once," and wrap the wristband around your arm like you are a disobedient child. You will feel patronized, violent, and have a really crappy swim.

You will cry because your dance injuries are worse, and because your dog ran away in the seventh grade. But no one will see your tears. Because you are in a swimming pool.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

Red Handed

For some time now, I've hid the guilty pleasure of listening to Paramore. Never played in front of others, only on my "workout" playlist, and a secret joy when it comes on the radio when I am driving by myself.

I am hiding it no longer. Their new song, Decode, is awesome. It is featured on the Twilight soundtrack. Twilight for heaven's sake! Teenage girls and vampires making out! Ridiculous. But whatever, this song is awesome. It perfectly captures the feeling of being a seventeen year old girl in America.

And being a seventeen year old girl in America feels like flying on a trapeze, thousands of feet in the air, straight through a thunderstorm.

Friday, October 17, 2008


So the music, costumes, and a couple parts of the choreography are a little pageanty, but a lot of the choreography is really good. And they are amputees. C'mon. I am so terrified of even losing my pinky finger. Way to express, yo.

Friday, October 3, 2008

No Context

Emstar: Who else is doing that right now?

Sara: Someone in South Korea... maybe in a karaoke bar.

Emstar: No. A cabaret. They are in a cabaret in South Korea, and one is transgendered and the other has no legs.


Richmond, VA. 2001ish. The Fan, Matthew and Ricardo's apartment, between Harvey and Plum.

Math-athew and I hung out even when we got on each other's nerves. That afternoon, we both sat on the busted couch, in the apartment at the end of the creepy hallway, with that smell I can never describe but will always recognize.

Matthew picked up his out of tune guitar and sang all of Lucky by Radiohead. Into my armpit.

I was probably late for dance class. (Afro-Caribbean. Or maybe Jazz. The Jazz class where I was so nervous my lips wouldn't stop trembling for the first two weeks.)

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Oh noes!

I was sitting on the futon rubbing at my itchy eyes when Emily asked if the buttons were coming in.
I mustn't be a little black rain cloud any longer! Or else I'll wake up with buttons for eyes! And Emily will have to plunge a steak knife deep within my chest! Right into the cold black plum that was my heart.

This is a potentiality that we discussed in all seriousness about five years ago. Just know she did what had to be done.

Monday, September 29, 2008

Declaration of Whatevs

When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one girl to dissolve the social bands which have connected her with others and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle her, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that she should declare the causes which impel her to the separation.

The First. You just wanted to feel what it would be like to be with someone like me. Someone who didn't care about what others thought. But I cared about what you thought. I'm sorry you don't like your wife.

The Second. Our relationship was at it's best when my self esteem was at its worst.

The Third. Feta cheese, while delicious, is not seductive.

The Fourth. You didn't take No for an answer. You also left me two blocks from my apartment.

The Fifth. I know you read my blog. I read yours, too. I also really miss you. But I also really hate your guts. I am sorry about this.

The Sixth. You really need to stop looking like a pineapple.

The Present. You need to stop saying you want to do something. Do it. I want you to.

This she pledges; Life, Fortune, Honor, etc.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Things I do poorly, or not at all:

- Remember/learn song lyrics.

- Process verbal spelling. Say it slowly. This is weird, because I am actually a really good speller. I just can't understand it out loud.

- Understand how to play a board game/card game until I've played it three times. Same goes for rules in sports.

- Algebra and chemistry.

-Retain music theory. I have learned how to read music (basically) at least three times. I can tell you that Every Good Boy Does Fine, but I don't remember what the F(sharp) that means.

Photo by Arthur Tress.

Monday, September 22, 2008

Drawing on the Spirit; Bird Skeleton Week

My parents always let us draw in church, so long as we waited until after the Sacrament was passed. I have a much easier time listening if I can do something with my hands. I always scribble on all my notebooks, tests, and programs at church and school. Sometimes Keith Paugh helped me endure sitting still in long meetings by extending fabulous drawing challenges such as "crimson fisticuffs," and "tiger style."

So last Sunday, as per usual, I was drawing my feelings. Which apparently looked like this:

Near the end of sacrament meeting this magically appeared on my lap:

How did I draw such an amazing creature?! It was actually drawn by Atom Sidwell, who then declared that it was Bird Skeleton Week. Everyone was invited to draw an entry, to be turned into Sara Ellis by the end of church next Sunday.

Here are the entries; click on any picture to enlarge for a maximized experience.

Dead flamingritch and toucan as expressed by CompTron.

With kind regards from Jeff S.

The skeleton of a very happy man, who surely wore a bird mask in life, by Kit.

A double thumbs up, compliments of Jeff D.

Dignified, posthumously, by Jared P.

Festivity, predecay, by Emstar.

Apologies to Kat K.'s homeless little dead bird, who fell out of my jacket on the way home from Jeff's birthday party. It was pitiful in the best way.

**Next week's theme: Tea Party. Deadline: after church, September 28.**

Friday, September 19, 2008

Cool Picture Friday

I'd like to be in the parade, but I haven't any pretty clothes to wear.

This Cool Picture Friday picture is...

A moving picture!

If you've ever wondered what goes on inside my head when I'm really happy and having a hard time paying attention to what you're saying-- this is it. This is the inside of my head. My all time favorite animated short, The Cookie Carnival, by Walt Disney. Check out the original some time, youtube just doesn't do it justice.

Oh, cookie hobo of my heart. Please make me your Cookie Queen.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

A tiny glance

into my Young Adult Novel, Spider Season.

We took turns daring each other to sit in the closet with the stuffed creature Fred kept stored there. It looked like some kind of cross between a small deer and a rodent. With large, desperate, yellow eyes. He said it was from Switzerland. We didn't believe him. We thought it was from Hell.

Saturday, September 6, 2008

I told you I was from the Netherlands.

Late night double dutch in a parking lot in Miracle Mile. At least once a week. Contact me if you want in on this hot mess. I'm bringing the segmented ropes next time. (Maybe I'll bring extra for onesies.)

Thursday, September 4, 2008

I had a dream...

That my breasts really hurt. Well first I dreamt about little blue creatures trying to come in through my bedroom window in my mother's house, but then I woke up and did some reading through the slush pile, to shake the weird feeling it gave me.

In my next dream my left ta was feeling some serious pain, and There was a hardened spot. I pressed on it, and it broke, changing the shape of my breast. I was totally freaking out, but was supposed to meet a guy friend. I ran into either my mother or a girlfriend on the way, and had lifted my shirt so they could look to see if anything seemed off. There was also a big mirror I was checking in.

The dude I was meeting showed up and acted unexpectedly offended and irritated.. I tried to calm him down and explain that I was having severe pain my my breasts, and that there had been a lump. No reason to be prudish, this was a medical situation!

So then I am taking my shirt off over my head, and my hands get stuck in the fabric, arms up in the air. Then my guy friend gets behind me and pulls me up against him, facing the mirror, and puts his hands on my torso.

Shocking! Bring on the sexy jams.

But no, he just starts giving me a very firm, very medical, and very quick breast exam. And then signs off on a medical chart, says I'm fine, and stalks off.

So my PSA for today, ladies, is all about the health of your ta tas. No matter the shape or size, take good care of your girls. Check often, and know when mammograms are suggested. Knowledge and prevention are the best medicines we have.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008


Thank you, Aries.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Dearest Lady,

My sole comfort through many sleepless nights. My loyal companion, and friend. Thank you for being so predictable and hungry.

My neighbors apparently have problems (such as they are both crappy people andcodependent). I actually got to sleep around midnight last night, only to startle awake at two. They were screaming at each other, for what became hours. I started this post around four am. Being forced to hear arguments between these kinds of people is all kinds of aggravating. My favorite part was maybe the man's declaration of "Shut your f---king mouth, you f---ing b----; I respect and love the f---ing sh-- out of you!"

If you ever find yourself in a physically and/or sexually abusive relationship, please be aware of the National Domestic Violence Hotline. 1.800.799.SAFE. They provide information, support, and referrals.

If you are in any kind of abusive relationship, well, geez, break up that mess already.

(P.S. Ms. P, I don't think you're easy; just self-possessed.)

Monday, September 1, 2008

To Do:

1. put someone under citizen's arrest

2. nail at least 12 compases in the Solea por Bulerias

3. make a mess in Hollywood

4. bathe in a public fountain

5. go on a stake out

6. pee in a measuring cup

7. mosey on my bike for miles on a warm night

8. fall into the ocean and dissolve into a million pieces of starlight

Sunday, August 31, 2008

I like

raspberry tea, because it feels like roses blooming in the back of my mouth.

Sunday, August 10, 2008


- Got dizzy and thought I was in the downstair's bathroom of my mom's house.

- Finished The History of Love, burst into tears on page 252.

- Tried to stop feeling responsible for others.

- Accepted that I am not pretty.

- Inflated the red ball.

- Ate so many meringues that my tongue burns.

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Dear Mormon Boys,

I hate your guts.

(This is in no way an editorial on the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints; which I totes approve of. Clarifying disclaimer? Check. Securing my future of eternal solitude? Also check.)

Monday, July 14, 2008

Strike me.

I have been praying for a thunderstorm.

I have been praying for a lot of things.

I'm only in Virginia for two more days. This has been a crap month. A crap month of cosmic magnitude. I've felt a lot of things: like a wild horse rearing up against being broken, a tree split twain by lightning. Abandoned. Rejected. Betrayed. Even more upsetting is what I haven't felt. Comfort. Clarity. Love.

Anyway. My mom came home for lunch and cooked some chicken with shredded carrots and onions. I have been considering going back to vegetarian, but there's no point in not eating my mom's food. I will never understand how she can cook something so delicious in less than fifteen minutes. As we sat at the cluttered dining room table we heard a faint rumbling from somewhere beyond our backyard. We both expressed the hope that it was a storm coming. Oh how I needed a thunderstorm before going back to Los Angeles. We don't get those there. Not real ones, anyway.

My mom went back to work, and I got back to scanning all the old pictures we got from her dad's house in Indiana. So I was sitting in our empty living room. It is totally bare except for a bookcase, a parrot, two wooden chairs (one broken), and my little pile of photographs and the scanner. There are huge curtain-less windows overlooking the front yard. I suddenly noticed that it was raining as a few thunderclaps echoed from miles away.

I was in the middle of doing laundry, and was only wearing my grey tee shirt and some dance briefs. I put down my laptop walked outside without my shoes. I never wear shoes here. The rain started coming down harder, and I toed around our maple tree and pushed my wet hair out of my face. I began to feel a little sheepish and went back inside and began toweling off in the den. I looked out at our backyard as the rain began pouring down in sheets through the sprawling mulberry trees, vines, and clover that have usurped any other flora that might have been there when I was a child.

I needed to go out there. I ran back out the front door and around back. The storm had finally settled over my neighborhood, and I was drenched in seconds. The thunder was rolling straight over me. I found a flooded spot of clover and dropped to my knees. I closed my eyes and as rain streamed down my face and chubby naked legs, I poured out my heart and soul to Whoever might listen. I can't write everything I said, but more than anything I just wanted to be heard, and maybe answered, one day.

I am struggling for humility these days. I don't know who heard me, or if (T)they cared. But see, that's not the point. At least not at first. The point is to push yourself, to explore what you don't know, and more importantly what you think you know. I understand more than ever the desire to let it go, to give up, to not believe. But even if you find nothing, how will you know it is nothing until you have pushed until your hands and feet bleed, scream until your voice gives way, and lay still until you disappear? We shouldn't stop searching, or trying.

I do not know where I will find my faith again. I do not know when I will recognize the voice that beckons. I don't know if this is something that will pass, or can pass, but I am thankful for those of you intercede on the behalf of a very small, very wild creature.

If nothing else, my soul delighteth in warm air rising, atmospheric instability, and the shedding of water from an inscrutable sky.

Monday, July 7, 2008

Three years old.

Already not a fan.

Wednesday, July 2, 2008


Sometimes when I watch James McAvoy I suddenly feel like King Haggard. I want to find the Red Bull and drive all the beautiful young talented actors into the sea, forever caught in the waves that crash against the shores by my lonely, twisted castle.

The tide is turning. Come and see. Come here. There. There they are. There they are!
They are mine! They belong to me! The Red Bull gathered them for me
one by one, and I bade him drive each one into the sea! Now, they live
there. And every tide carries them within an easy step of the land, but
they dare not come out of the water! They are afraid of the Red Bull. ...I
like to watch them. They fill me with joy. ...The first time I felt it I
thought I was going to die.