Thursday, January 29, 2009

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

What drug for a grudge

It is hard to like someone who keeps kicking you in the face.

Yoshitomo Nara.

Monday, January 26, 2009

Media naranja

Dear orange,

You are out of my hands. May you navigate the seas with swiftness.


Crossing the Atlantic by Valerie LaPointe.

My parents aren't home, let's

make art on the couch.

James Jean, your paintings turn me on. I want to stick my hands in their armpits, and then smell my fingers as I go to sleep. This is embarrassing, but that is what true love does. It makes you stupid and embarrassed, pretty much all the time. If one of your paintings ever relents and gives it up, I won't use protection. I will hope for an accident. I will carry your art in my womb.

Maybe this isn't love. Maybe it's hormones; making every line and hue adorable and perfect.

Maybe this is lust.

Sometimes that is enough.

(I was recently familiarized with Jillian Tamaki. Also awesome. Maybe we could consider an open relationship.)

Good art never stops being exciting. The Rob Sato showing at GR2 is good, you should check it out.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

From separate rooms

in the same apartment, in the middle of the night:

i suddenly imagined you gently knocking on my door and opening it in the morning
and saying "sara?"
then walking into my room as a puppet
and how badly i would want to scream

Emily: hahahahahaha

me: but how i woouldn't be able to
it would be silent
and you would walk in that horrible weightless way that puppets walk
over to my bed
and then sorta jump/float up
as if on strings
and then be like
"sara? why are you crying? don't cry, sara". but your mouth would barely be moving.
and i would pray for God to kill me.

Sent at 1:40 AM on Wednesday
Emily: think what i would be going through ... my empty husk of a body shoved into the back of the closet, my spirit jerking about in a wooden monstrosity
my whole goal for you to just brush my hair with a tiny comb
Sent at 1:42 AM on Wednesday

it's true.
how tragic for us both.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Me voy

Walking down 4th, over the freeway, Pinkberry in my hands (pineapple and raspberry), the Kicking Windows mix in my ears, and the sun burning my thighs through my jeans.

Pretty freaking good.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

1:54 am

Yesterday's burnt cookies.

Our kitchen became sad.

Really sad.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Reverend Eugene

-sneaking dance battles and Busta Rhymes into a Japanese play about wizards and persimmons.
-running away from super villains in the flea market; hiding in the Krispy Kreme.
-driving through downtown, making up verses and car-dancing to N*E*R*D
-filling the car with about five thousand pounds of laundry.
-talking about God, and life, and giving all our money away.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Turn Table Tarot

So Emily and I play a lot of fortune games. One of our favorite games is divining the future with iTunes' Party Shuffle. You hit refresh, and the last song on the list defines whatever incident you are inquiring about.

We also use this game to create the setlists we will play (against the will of our respective loved ones) at each other's wedding and funeral. I will, in fact, be marching down the aisle to Careless Whisper by Wham. Did I really have any other choice? No. Destiny has declared it.

Biggest win ever.

My funeral, however, will be a creepy mess. Emily inferred that the music bodes of an untimely death. I think it means I may just become Undead. Based on the soundtrack, the video montage of my life is going to be directed by the Brothers Quay. The one song that turned out lovely is what will play while everyone pays their last respects. Spaceboy by the Smashing Pumpkins. It's so perfect that Emily has promised to really play it. If I die first.

Of course I will die first. I have the most haunting to do.

(Photo by Syrie Kovitz.)

Monday, January 5, 2009

The void

I really miss Nerf Fencing. I think about it on an almost weekly basis. I really wish they would start manufacturing the swords again.

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Things I hate:

1. Cowardice.

2. Dishonesty.

3. Being patronized.

4. Busby Berkeley musicals.

Seriously. When you go to heaven and you get the chance to pick five people to punch in the face, Bus is on my list. Sure, he made innovative strides with choreography and camera work, but he also helped women sashay back into the abyss that is the Feminine Ideal.

Layer upon layer and row after frothy row of pretty, vacant women, meant to be displayed and devoured in large quantities. Like sugar cookies. Smiling all the while. Sweet, sweet, sweet.

Thursday, January 1, 2009


I have trouble waking up and accepting that this is what's really happening.

Art by James Jean.