om navah shivaya

So I just had the craziest experience in yoga, and i finally understand Om. My grandma would always try to explain what Om was when I was little. She would say an om and then say – listen, you can hear it all the time. It's the sound of the universe. It's the sound the universe makes. But I could never hear it and it was always frustrating because when I listened in the silent still montana forest, I could only hear a high pitched ringing in my ears. It didn't sound very impressive, and I doubted that the universe made a high pitched buzz. Didn't sound powerful enough. It was probably powerlines. Or dry pine needles about to burst from hot montana summer sun.


Recently at LiB I ate acid and did a meditation i've been doing lately where i radiate love (which apparently has a name - metta bhavana) I went right back into my 5meo-DTM journey (which i will write about soon) and remembered the intensely powerful buzzing vibration that is also a taste and a smell and a feeling that I forgot from the original journey. I remembered the sound/taste/feel/smell of the divine from the DTM journey. it was so powerful and beautiful and terrifying and awe inspiring and i WAS the vibration.


Then I did yoga today and as we all Omed together I was totally blown away and overwhelmed when I felt that same deep vibration in the Om sound and realized that fucking DUH, that vibration that I was feeling in those journeys is OM. It is the sound of the universe. The sound of the divine. I had to stop Oming because it's impossible to cry and Om at the same time. It totally rocked my world.

Getting my world rocked by the universe gets more and more standard as this journey goes on.

love is not a declaration

but a state of being. THE state of being. it is being.

for anyone who has known me for a long time, i've undergone a radical transformation. for those of you who have just met me, or started reading me, we were probably brought together as a direct result of this transformation. what an amazing universe we are!

i've been slowly shaking off the cynical shit talking that has been the definition of Me. i'm feeling less and less attached to the name La Dick, considering it came from a conversation with a fellow cold hearted shit talker about how we are both just such DICKS. i've let go of that way of being. i am open to love now. i feel calm and grounded and open where before i was shut off. i was funnier then, for sure, but also empty. i was choosing fear instead of love. in every moment of our lives, we have the choice between love and fear. i was choosing fear without even knowing there was a choice.

i am so full of love now. it has been such a journey.

first of all

dear half of my facebook friends, i don't care how fucking far you ran today or at what time, and when you post it pretending to complain about your 6 am 12 mile run what you are really doing is attention seeking and it's annoying. run or don't, at the crack of dawn or not, i don't give a fuck. and neither does anyone else except possibly your few sycophantic friends who are jealous and have no self esteem so they say "omg i couldn't even run three miles, you are amazing how do you fit it all in you crazy superwoman!" stop it! stop encouraging the attention seeking. enough is enough. (this doesn't apply to my friends who actually run competitively and just want to update everyone on their progress. there's a difference.)

take a minute and read the above conversation. that is the future of our nation. we are totally fucked.

in other news wow i am obsessed with these nail things. i have sweated minx since they first arrive on the scene, but i'm too OCD to let someone else do my nails. i used to have ghetto tips (pointy claw ones, duh) but i got sick of sitting on the other side of the table watching like a hawk and grinding my teeth and sweating as the nail tech filed slightly imperfectly and i would go home and redo them myself anyway. no more. now i am sticking to this ghetto sally hansen shit. this photo is from the first day i put them on so my nails are short. these things actually lasted 10 days and my nails underneath grew out perfectly and are now super long and ready for the next round. which is herringbone. i think. is herringbone played out? i can't tell. i also bought tiger and silver from sephora. i'll let you know how it goes. thank you so much liz! i would never have thought to try these before your post. who knew drug store nail game could be so tight?

i will keep him.

here is some advice for you.

if you are not in a relationship that makes you feel like a total bad ass bitch and makes you happy every minute of every day, you should break up. no, seriously. if you aren't in that type of relationship, you should be. what? that would mean that 90% of all people in relationships should break up? yes, i agree. 90% of people in relationships should break the fuck up so that new good doors can open where the bad ones are closed and locked with no key.

sometimes when biggie falls asleep in my lap in the sun it's the cutest most absurd thing ever.

sometimes we go sailing in sausalito and it looks a lot like the above.

sometimes i get taken on amazing ski vacations in tahoe and they look like the above. not pictured, the driest air of all time. we ordered an air humidifier from the front desk and then talked about how dry the air was and was it this dry last time we were in tahoe and it couldn't have been this dry because i've never felt so dehydrated in my life and i've been to tahoe a lot and sometimes you realize you sound like a 70 year old italian complainer from the upper west side.

sometimes people say they want to see more photos of my tits on the internet.

sometimes my long lost friend from LA appears in san francisco and takes me out to dinner after we walk around the city for 10 miles in the shortest skirt imaginable.

and then sometimes during dinner he takes a million extreme close ups of my mollie hangover face.

sometimes my business partner in nyc ships me my 46" plasma flat screen and i pay eight million dollars in insurance and shipping and it still arrives totally demolished and i have to go to war with UPS.

sometimes totally out of nowhere you meet your match.

hello compulsion my old friend.

oh god heart is breaking save kitty.

today at whole foods I was totally gripped with the urge to straighten every box on the shelf and container of juice and apple in the pile. No. not the urge. an urge is something different. The compulsion. the obsessive compulsion. Like I recognized the feeling in me from the days of small childhood that whispers to me that me something bad is going to happen if I don't carefully adjust things like the toilet paper tearing perfectly or the way a box of tea is on a shelf until I have a strong sense of the energy in the inanimate object aligning perfectly with the energy in the other inanimate object that it's aligning with.

i want to feel like everything is going to be okay but i don't today.

the other day it was pouring rain and i was sitting in the dj's car while he moved his rv to a new parking spot. the car headlights were shining directly on a homeless man sleeping under dirty blankets on cardboard in a doorway. cliche homeless guy. and his little shoe was sticking out of the doorway and getting rained on while his socked foot was dry and safe sticking out of the blankets under the overhang and i thought about him putting his dry foot in that soaking shoe and fuck! so heartbreaking! i should have pushed his shoe into the ledge but it would have been so invasive of his little area he created and i couldn't do it and then couldn't forgive myself after we drove away for not doing it and then cried and cried at the injustice of the world and how unfair it is and how sad it is that animals get killed in feedlots like they are soulless lumps of muscle when i can see clearly that they have thoughts and feelings and fears and souls, definitely souls. fuck. feeling farther away from things and sad and creeping depression. this is not me.

i should be packing. but instead. this.

fuck! japan! woah.

just once in my life i would like to wash a load of dark clothing without forgetting a kleenex in a pocket. white lint is the name of my game. also, i'm sick of fakeness. i'm really only interested in authenticity in my experiences. if you put it out there that you'd like to hang out with me or be my friend or have some kind of personal interaction with me, i expect it to be for real. otherwise, what's the point? who has time for bullshit?



breathe in light
shine brightly
breathe out love

14 years ago today.

RIP King of NYC.

writer's block and special k

(it's possible that this is one of the best pics of all time.)

it turns out that K is super fun. i've always a major drug snob when it came to K because my only experiences with it were morons rolling around in a K Wrestling pile (i wish that wasn't a thing, but it is.) or sitting motionless in the corner of the club in a k hole. annoying! so annoying. plus i'm kind of a pussy when it comes to psychedelics. i've never done acid w/o ecstasy, for example, because i feel like there's already a million crazy things going on in my head and i'm not sure i need lsd in there fuckin wit me unless i have a steady flood of serotonin in there as well, just to be safe.

(taken the day after arriving back in SF after burning man. check the playa dreads i had rocking. my head weighed a hundred pounds.)

anyway, the opportunity came up to try it, with awesome people in a super safe setting, so i went for it. it's surprisingly ridiculously fun to be that retarded. it was also exactly like i expected. i went completely retarded and laughed my ass off and felt that really, it's less of a hallucinogen and more of a disassociative (duh) and it didn't really have any mental trip. it made me fucking stupid, but not freaked out tripping. and it was way less scary than the times i got dosed with DXM, another disassociative that i accidentally ate a few times in DC. DXM is scary and made me want to die, K is fun and made me a giggling idiot. for example, on DXM i couldn't tell the difference between a spoon and a pen, and i was too afraid to actually converse. on K, we lucidly discussed the potential spellings of the movie Baraka for approximately 10 minutes (which is a long time for four people with internet access to discuss the spelling of a word) and came to the conclusion that it's probably got two Rs in it, but they aren't next to each other. i know. RE. TARDED. there's no shame in my game, we went straight retarded.

(taken in my friend's RV. this thing was basically the size of a two bedroom house.)

in other news, i have fucking writer's block like a motherfucker. i'm writing the copy for a website for a new company i'm helping to launch, and it has to be a cross between sophistication and whimsy, appeal to high end boutiques and soccer moms, and be informative about organic cotton. so you know, no big deal.


do you guys know about this? http://documentaryheaven.com/ Also known as the most exciting link of all time. right now i'm watching a documentary about Aleksander Litvinenko who worked for the russian secret service and then was subsequently poisoned by them. with a rare radioactive substance no less. interestingly, they were able to trace the substance across the world due to it's radioactive nature and the fact that it leaves invisible traces of radioactivity as it's transferred from jet planes to cars to hotel rooms. russian is the sexiest language of all time. russian politics...not so much. truth is truly stranger than fiction.

can someone please inspire me? i need to get this writing done and instead i'm looking for dog vitamins online and making tea and doing laundry and posting on this blog and these things will not pay the bills. fuck.

success in love or money.

i am doing precisely zero percent of my work today. i am moving into a new loft on the 7th. maybe i should pack. MAYbe i said. don't rush me. i don't like to do things before they are necessary.

i don't give a fuck about the oscars. am i the only one?


in other news, i just lost what is (sadly) a seriously large amount of money due to a misunderstanding with my w-4. basically a month's rent. it is sad that a month's rent is a lot to me right now, but it is. i can't catch a fucking break to save my own life. it's always something. every time i almost feel like financially things are going to be okay something happens like my ex leaves me (thank god he left, but still) with a 2 bedroom apartment and a massive amex bill or (at my poorest) my 5 pound chihuahua eats a 3 pound caesar salad and i have to spend a million dollars on him to make sure he doesn't explode or the interest rate on my student loan doubles overnight and all of a sudden i have to spend twice as much a month for the same education and i should have just gone to law school after all if i'm going to pay that fucking much for school. or the time my design firm canceled all our contracts so we could pursue a second season with a major greek client only to find out he went to jail for embezzling approximately one million dollars from his partner by laundering money through said design firm. i always see the light at the end of the tunnel but never fucking make it there. fuuuuck. fuck.

(that's me in white at the top left.) (on the best morning of my life.)