I might be picking up the pen again.

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.)

i'm slowly venturing back into the virutal world.

i mean VIRTUAL world. see how rusty i am? rusty.

so i had a spiritual awakening/rebirth/was reborn from the desert a new, raw, honest, present, creature. i'm still a shit talking cynic, don't worry. it's just that i'm a totally different person emotionally, meaning that i can actually feel emotions now and no longer mistake the rollercoaster of anxiety, excitement and heartbreak for love.

all the buddhist concepts of being present and open-hearted and free from attachments that were concepts i was raised by but only understood conceptually are more than just concepts now. they are are reality. that sounds super annoying and pretentious i know. but it's the truth.


i was thinking about giving the run down on the last six months...but wow. what a fucking ride. i would have to quit my job to have time to write it all down. which i will do someday. but not now. let's just say my life is 100% entirely different than it has ever been before. there is a before burning man and an after. when the temple burned down with my grandmother's prayer beads inside, tied lovingly on a pink string, and the last of me was washed away and released...there was a before that and a now. i'll keep you posted on how the now is going.

(i'll probably have to explain this picture at some point as well.)

(and this one too.)

(this one is pretty self explanatory. that right there is some old fashioned ass shaking on the dance floor.)

i still exist.

more later.

just so you all know:

i made white fake fur leg warmers with tassels. that's right bitches. TASSELS. you all know my obsession with tassels and seriously there is nothing that is not made better by them, including these fake fur legwarmers.

i moved into my new place the other day, the crazy bitch moved out and took all her super mario brothers ish with her. i am in 100% love with my new place. my roommates are the nicest people on the planet and drove my crazy ass all over the bay area looking for last minute burning man stuff. i know! right? they don't even know me or know what burning man is, yet there we were at sports authority in daly city discussing the pros and cons of different tent stakes. yay for nice people and company cars.
like i said, i had to hook up the pink. and if one is going to hook up pink, it might as well be ruffly booty shorts. right?

last night i had a dream that i was part of a freestyle cypher backstage at that show that ?uestlove (does he still spell it like that?) is the drummer for...what is that fucking show called i can't remember. not jimmy kimmel. jimmy falon? i'm googling hold on. YES, late night with jimmy fallon. anyway it was awesome. yes, that is the entire story. were you hoping for more? there's no more. if you are feeling unsatisfied just scroll up and check out my tits again, they usually make me feel pretty good.

xoxo everyone, see you after the burn.

i am going to burning man and not a damn thang can stop me.

i had the most fucked up job interview of all time today. i won't say any names, but the company is one of Macy's best sellers. this was my third interview and it was basically yet another hour of being talked AT by corporate officers. there were no questions asked. okay, that's not true, there were rhetorical questions asked and then immediately answered by the asker (as is the nature of rhetorical questions.) At the end of my third interview they were totally verbally abusive, on some "i don't know why you think you could work here but we'll think about it and get back to you" shit, i'm not kidding, and there was one part where either sales manager or the CEO straight up lied to my face. they couldn't both be telling the truth. wtf. i don't have the energy to go into the details, but i don't think i'll be working there. thanks for the offer assholes, and thanks for wasting my time.

in other news, i'm going to fucking burning man next week fuuuckkkk yeahhhhh!!!!! i'm camping with PM and have to hook up a ton of pink shit to get ready. your girl does not wear pink.

one of the days all the girls are wearing ties and sunglasses and nothing else (see above.) i bought these ridiculous platform boots to wear as well.

keeps the alkaline playa dust off your feet so you don't get playa foot which is basically an alkaline burn. fight club style. i basically had to sell my soul to find these bitches. one would think that san francisco would be a mecca of platform boots if anywhere was. one would be wrong.

this is the closest thing to a shirt i plan on wearing for seven straight days. cool? good.

also i grew this booty for you guys. do you like it? i think i'll keep it around. i don't know where it came from buy it's welcome to stay. and grow. and thrive and be prolific.



gravity is my homie. (dj above) love him. sexiest pink wearing straight man of all time. i can't even watch these videos because i get too fucking excited to sit still and my entire day is shot because i can't focus dreaming of dancing my ass off with amazing people and wearing no shirt and having brown tits and no tanlines and wearing giant platform boots and seeing amazing art and probably yes okay eating drugs and riding my bike around and getting fucking playa dust everywhere except hopefully in my contact lens case and i could go on and on. i am seriously beside my self with excitement. this fucking job interview can kiss my soon to be dusty and tan ass. so can my apartment situation. i found a room in a three story loft, with my own patio and bathroom (I KNOW) in the Dog Patch district which is super close to a guy i may or may not be dating...he may or may not be featured somewhere in this post...it may or may not be in the beginning of this paragraph...and the people that already live there are cool and their dog gets along with biggie. the only problem is that the crazy bitch that lives in the room refuses to leave so they may have to forcibly evict her. she is a 27 year old woman and the room looks like an 8 year old boy lives there. she has a super mario brothers comforter and sheet set, a DOOM poster on the wall, a batman figurine in the bathroom (that's a fucking slap in the face to this loft. batman figurines do not belong on heated slate floors, bitch. thank you and goodnight.) and a fucking closet full of comic books. fucking weirdo. and before you emo indie comic book nerds start getting hard, she's moving out because she just found out she's pregnant and she's going to move in with her man so they can play xbox together while she gestates. gestates? gross. anyway, if her bitch ass would get out i would be all good in the hood, but such is the nature of my life. nothing is easy. it's all coming together though, and i'm keeping my chin up. (we'll see if i say that on thursday when i officially have to be out of this place and have no where to go...bitch better get to packing up her stan smith shit because biggie and i are moving in whether she likes it or not.)



check the ass and hips on that girl in the pink shorts. yes please.

LIZ COME TO THE BURN DO NOT ARGUE. oh and by the way i went to piedmont on haight the other day and thought of you - have you been? i'm guessing no, because if you had you'd still be there kind of like how this bitch won't move out of my room.

that is all.

do solitary souls have soulmates?

you know how when people say "it's just god's plan"? it's super annoying. it doesn't explain anything, it's just a way to feel better about the absolute shit you've been dealt. oh, it's for a reason. it's the universe just giving me what i need. whatever. i'm fucking sick of it.

i have lived such a solitary life. a life of solitude surrounded by friends and family and men. alone in the crowd is the story of my life. up all night as a child, alone in the woods, waiting for the sun to come up.

i have never had a partner in crime. never had parents to show me the world, saw it all on my own. "She'll be okay, she's a strong one." that's me. the strong one that can handle myself in any situation, in any place, all alone.

i've never had a man i connected with on a serious level. they are always situational. this one is good for bringing home to meet my dad, but i wouldn't want my friends to meet him. this one is good with my friends in san francisco, but only some of them, because the other ones would say he wasn't good enough. this one is fucking perfect, amazing, would take him anywhere...but oh, right, he's taken. this one is perfect in montana, to go snowboarding with and surfing with...but he'd get eaten alive in nyc. this one is perfect in the grimy hip hop club in DC, take his ghetto ass to soul camp everyweekend, but don't expect him to make sense at dinner with your canadian family eating with a knife his right hand and an upside down fork. and finally, in my happy place, buzz dc at 4 am rolling face in a club full of 4000 family members, i am alone alone alone, a third wheel and a 4001st wheel.

here i am again, outside looking in.

www.plentyofpsychos.com

So i caved to the pressure of my friends and joined plentyoffish.com. so far it has been a complete shitshow. some of the guys are probably not insane, but are totally boring. some of them are sad and make me sad and i can't really think about it for too long.

And then there's the dudes that are so motherfucking creepy and weird that i had to let ya'll in on the magic.

Psycho #1
(after he tells me how gorgeous I am and pretends he’s 34 even though he clearly looks 50.)
"The proposal is this:
If you are still waiting for Mr. Right, then, in the mean time, would you not want to spend magical time with this Mr. Right Now - who will stimulate your mind, raise your spirits, and pleasure your body skillfully and caringly?

If you find this proposal unwelcome, then please disregard this message with my apologies. I will not bother you again.

But….if this proposal intrigues you even a little – well then read on!!

When I arrive in the Bay area, I would like to take you out for the first of what will surely be many dates..…and on the menu: lively conversation, fine wine, exotic food and …

If all goes well and we have a good connection, then I envision us getting closer as the evening progresses and who knows – perhaps even a beautiful, erotic and satisfying night making love with the promises of many more. I am a lively companion and an interesting conversationalist. I am also a good kisser, am very skilled at giving pleasure in all different ways – including giving massages and oral. I am skilled at finding that elusive g-spot and if you like satisfying, deep and long lasting penetration, sign me up! (I can attest that those Kegels definitely work)!"

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? Save your dirtbag prostitution requests for craigslist casual encounters you narcissistic douchebag. I mean don't get me wrong, i like satisfying, deep and long lasting penetration as much as the next girl, but i definitely don't want it from some aging Bostonite in town on business who reminds me to do my kegels.

Psycho #2
the title of his email is: "first date we eat biggie smalls"
(my dog's name is biggie smalls. not a good start, asshole.)

"Appetizer, prepared Buffalo wing
style, were gonna make soul food
out of your soul mate, and mate
in the wake of it.

I have 2 furry siblings who
provide the laugh track, no need
for your rabid rodent to intrude
on the lolz.

I was gonna compliment your
nose, the turn of it sits well
with me, but your eyeballs are
having a funny (fuzzy) impact on
my systolic pressure."

Okay. Where do i even begin? i wrote him back to let him know that although he probably meant this whole thing as a lighthearted, creative attempt to get my attention, the best way to a woman's heart is definitely NOT through cooking her dog. He wrote back "does this mean we can't mate? well, good luck fair buffalo slayer." what can i even add to that? not to mention that i checked his profile and his "two furry siblings" are cats. fucking cats. no offense to the cat lovers out there, but a single man with two cats? NAGL. just sayin.



in other news, i just realized i have followers! hi guys!

sex with you is like having a monkey clinging to me humping away. just sayin.

so i had to talk to my ex last night. i always dread it because it's never a normal adult conversation, and the longer i spend away from him the more shocking his way of being is.

he owes me approximately q98347981347592834 dollars, and i only think it's fair that he at least pay back $4000 of it. once in a while, just for the fuck of it, i text him to ask him when he plans on paying me back. it's usually right after i've told someone the story of how we broke up and all the financial shit he pulled, and the person says holy SHIT that is fucked up, and then i realize that yes, it is totally fucked and i should text him just to see what he says.


so of course he writes back "what debt? what are you talking about?" like he has no idea. which is hilarious because it's basically been the topic of every argument we've had for the last year. so i explain the debt to him like he's five, which he is on the inside, and sort of on the outside too actually.

so then the text battle ensues, and then he calls me which is always a total shitshow. the call usually starts sort of civilly, and then he starts saying the most random things like "i shouldn't have to pay you back because i don't have time, i have a 2 hour commute everyday." that makes total sense, never mind. uhhh wtf??? so then i say, it's your choice to live with your parents in the Virginia countryside and work in DC. then he says "i don't have time, i have to talk to my army recruiter every day." oohhhh right, the army recruiter, you know, to re-enlist in the army that you went AWOL from. good call. So i say, "that's your choice as well, and really, how long does that take every day?" and then, the inevitable happens. he does this thing where he starts to list all the things that are going on in his life, and then he starts to yell the list, and by the end it's just him screaming a list of bullshit excuses in a fake boston accent into the phone. the list will also invariably include the fact that he thinks having a job you love doesn't constitute work (i worked fucking 15 hour days, 5 days a week the entire time we were together, but he doesn't think it was actual work because work is something you hate.)


so he's like "well also i have to lie to the army every day about having had melanoma so they will send me to iraq and also my dog died and also i have to sit with my dad while he cries about having lung cancer AND I HAVE TO WORK NOT THAT YOU'D KNOW WHAT THAT'S LIKE AND I HAVE TO HAVE DRINKS SOMETIMES AND I HAVE CLASSES AND FINALS AND I HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS CAR THAT I FUCKING HATE AND I HAVE TO HAVE MEETINGS AT THE RESTAURANT AND I HAVE TO DO IT ALL WITHOUT BLOWING MY FUCKING HEAD OFF SO NO, I DON'T HAVE TIME TO PAY YOU BACK."

and his poisonous anger filled bullshit starts to seep into the phone and i can feel it toxifying my cells and i can literally feel stress chemicals begin to eat away at my insides and i realized why the fuck i kicked his pathetic ass to the curb in the first place, and instead of saying all the shit i want to say - the logical, normal shit that makes total sense - i just calmly tell him what a child he is and hang up the phone.

the bottom line is that all the money in the world isn't worth having to deal with an irresponsible childish pathetic alcoholic for the rest of my life, and i got off easy.