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.)