i am going to make a list of unfunny things a person can do.

at the top of it is going to be running up on me as i'm getting into my jeep in the bank parking lot and saying menacingly "where's the money??" all loud and evil keeping me from closing my door while my head is turned and i cannot see that i know you because you're the guy from the wine shop down the way that used to give me free boxes of nat shermans when your team won football games.

that is an unfunny thing. someone nearly caught a hot one doing that today.

and okay i spent an obscene amount of money on dinner tonight. this bit of adventure began with OT making a federal goddamn case out of helping me move a fucking bookshelf when i asked him about it this afternoon. going also on my list of unfunny things a person can do is make moving a fucking bookshelf into some inappropriate and unnecessary gesture when you're supposed to be my friend and it's only a big deal if i suck your dick while you're doing it. which wasn't on the agenda.

so okay. anyway i ended up at ikea because john was down to roll and i hate how much of a goddamn maze that place is and i hate that buy buy buy fucking insanity they pump through the air there but i love two things about ikea and they go like this:

1) finding out that the tall blonde hottie pop locking tattooed youngbuck i have a crush on works there

2) my new extra gigantic heart-shaped night light which i intend to use as a tool in my seduction of him

these things are easy like sunday morning. these things please me.



getting my new and massive bookshelf into jeepy was not so easy though and it only makes sense that because john had to share shotgun with that motherfucker i should fill us both with steaks at a restaurant on stilts over the bay before we rolled back to my crib to carry it up the stairs.

okay so that was mad expensive but there were a couple of cigarettes and there was a frozen coffee drink and there was this: "another one bites the dust" came on while we were on the second half of the bridge and goddamn that song fucking *knocks*, yo. at the exact right moment john turned to me and said,

"dude. this song? it kinda makes me want to slap someone."

and he's totally fucking right. it's the best apocalyptic rollerjam hand to hand combat crucial fucking battle song ever fucking recorded and when i make my other list, the list of funny things that a person can do? unexpectedly busting out and saying that a song makes you want to slap someone and being a-plus goddamn right about it is going to be somewhere in the top ten. word.

i do not know what my hair is doing in this picture. i do know what amanda is doing in this picture though. looking a-fucking-dorable. out.



angelina just pulled your coat at 6/2/2004 12:07:42 AM

 


this morning. good morning.

i kind of overslept because i dreamed i was dating jayhovah. it was going really fucking well and we kissed a lot. we had the best understanding and it was surprisingly simple. put your money where your mouth is and don't tell other people's business.

it's funny. but there is a certain kind of zen relationship status that you can only attain with famous people because they always have bigger fish to fry. so while you'd do well to avoid backstage sneak maneuvers to ho it up, it never pays to consider anyone out of your league. unless you really truly believe that, which is one of thos self-fulfilling prophecy type thoughts that no one can help you with.

good morning.

okay so yeah. i was kissing jay z a lot and loving on how soft his lips are and i'd moved into this great fucking penthouse with floor to ceiling windows like, everywhere. it was in oakland. i got to watch a lot of basketball.

then i woke up and learned something about meek. now i've got to fucking get my day started because the porn isn't going to test itself and i think that i'd much rather be married to jigga right now than getting ready for work. a man with that many names has got to have a secret or two he could teach me.

good morning.

angelina just pulled your coat at 6/1/2004 09:29:46 AM

 


then i realize that my night shirt has hot hot hot french cuffs. this makes me an assassin in my sleep. i dreamed of you, which probably means that you woke up antsy or wondering why you suddenly want cotton candy and snow cones for breakfast.

and even after all my logic and my theory, i add a "mothafucka" so you ign'ant niggas hear me



angelina just pulled your coat at 5/31/2004 10:42:43 AM

 


if you can come up with something more pathetic and ridiculous than this i'd be awe-stricken.

the attempt i've been making to live up to a standard i imagined in the first goddamn place. oh. and. as long as i'm busting out with some sort of awkward honesty i should admit that it's actually even more obscene: performing that unsexy and thankless task for the benefit of a judge that does not exist, dear hearts.

often my biggest mistakes in retrospect all boil down to acting like it ever fucking matters.

imagine that from both sides. that sort of waking up feeling desparate. going to sleep the same way. wondering what the magic words might be.

but the joke's on la mujer sincera. cause top that and get this:

THE MAGIC WORDS DON'T FUCKING EXIST. AND IF THEY DID THERE'D BE NO ONE TO SAY THEM TO.

oh and word life.

check the other side. not so delicious feeling, it turns out. a sort of smirking over your shoulder at something you've lost your use for. it's not that you don't have a use. or rather, didn't ever have one. it's that you lost it.

and you're not calling front desks at all hours trying to track the motherfucker down either. you don't even fucking want it anymore.

useless. like someone lost their wool mittens at mardi gras.

oh dramatic and woe is me like whoah.

this is a journal entry. the most entertaining story i have to offer i've already told but perhaps bears repeating. your lovely hostess, ladies and gents. this is the kind of unsuccessful kindness i carry around with me on the daily:

your porcupine fact? made me think of today how i was walking through this grove with the homies and i saw a roly poly (pillbug? black segmented thing? whatevs) right in the middle of the path and i was all "hey stop, watch out for this little guy" and cause no one listened? i kinda kicked the little motherfucker and sent him balling up into a crack in the pavement.

for his own good.

oh. the humanity.

**i was dreaming of the past. and my heart was beating fast**

my excruciatingly appropriate soundtrack right now is jimmy scott singing "jealous guy". i won't even dare offer it because it's on the chelsea walls soundtrack which you should buy. that cat deserves our money.

i'm going to go kick some more roly polys into cracks in the pavement. laters.

angelina just pulled your coat at 5/30/2004 11:09:31 PM

 
darlings and savages. hello. lacking a martini shaker you can just put all of the ingredients in your mouth (sans olive, of course) and have two guys in sombreros grab you and shake you around a bit. it's true. i seen it in a movie. pop the olive in last, right before you hurl or have a swing at the pinata.

today amanda and i took to the streets. inspired by a coconut that fairly begged me to try to be happy, what else could i do? we brought chalk, natch.

i've got pictures of our antics plus a fairly sexy one of my ass. but i'll start first with something to set the mood. it's a slideshow, bitches. an idea, if one can ever really be attained by someone outside of someone else's dome, of where my head is at. blah. and. does any of this really exist anyway? yoooooo. that's too much to take a stab at comprehending now. so just enjoy yourself.



editrix finds it imperative to note that the bit of "USA" graffiti underneath the lovely depiction of romantic process i illustrated was *not* done by yours truly. a possibly homeless man came by and told me my drawing was nice, then asked for some chalk. the graf says "USA: Hug your vet." which he explained by telling us that it's memorial day weekend. word. i mean. what was i gonna do? tell a homeless guy he couldn't play with my chalk? ya. still though. sort of detracts from my overall message, as patriotism has fucking *nothing* to do with love. word. or maybe it does and that's why i consistently fail at both. ha. in either situation: more fireworks! xo.

angelina just pulled your coat at 5/29/2004 07:57:59 PM

 


you woulda say i don't know what i know but

brava.

first off, some music. there you have chaka demus with that unmatched dancehall dj rumble of a voice, the kind only those boys get to pull off. playing songbird is pliers, a massive and rugged looking man with a voice that comes out lilty and soft-touching you to shock. this kind of thing worked as soundtrack when i was sneaking underaged and already impure into dancehall clubs to learn how to wind from real jamaicans. hoping to catch a glimpse of too short at the caribe.

i never did.

last night someone sent me links to this, this and this. things which fairly broke my heart under the realization of the really cool shit i forget to do on a daily basis. when's the last time i got my tag up on the face of anything out in the real world? i've been busy wondering if i should take up weed smoking again just for kicks. it's been too long since i had a proper functioning habit.

oh it can wait til tomorrow.

and well. no it can't.

i think of eye and how he paints so well. how he casually receives seven large for a portrait done in oil paints and then blows half of that on a lapdance extravaganza weekend. up to his neck in blow and get this babygirl, is what he says to me, people actually pay me *more* when i look strung out. they think i'm going to die and that makes everything i make even more valuable. i think about what a rare bird he is and i think that no. not a goddamn thing can wait.

he makes seven thou while maintaining his high because he doesn't hesitate to blow everything he's got in one evening. he doesn't hesitate to make one of his evenings span one of our paltry earth weeks by keeping all of his window coverings shut tight to the outside world and not answering his phone.

lessons. fucking everywhere there are lessons.

so i relax into my cushy life of buttered toast and m&ms; for breakfast. and when those have been ingested i start looking for the jack daniels. when i do not find that i just grab my keys off of the landing and start cruising for surfers painted up like dead presidents bank robbers so that i can take them on a walkabout and throw impromptu beach parties.

fucking fuckit. fuck this shit. this fucking fuck. that coconut says "try to be happy" and what a goddamn set of magic words that one is. my god. when something has to happen, good or bad, you just make it so.

slim shady's take on that.

actin like they never seen nobody hit a lick before



angelina just pulled your coat at 5/29/2004 11:17:35 AM

 


note to selves: a light step doesn't mean you have to be taken lightly.

as i type this i've got a very short list of things that matter to me. they are all megadeluxe but strange. for instance, there is keeping myself from making a cocktail out of fizzy vitamin c drink and vanilla absolute plus maybe some rose's lime. i'm not sure why it is so important that i don't do that just i suppose the *weirdness* of drinking a cocktail like that is more responsibility than i can shoulder right now. i would have to follow that up with something positively wacky, which i don't have in me at the mo.

okay and so the roofer guy saw me nekked this morning. that part doesn't actually matter so much as the carefree and sort of just fucking leisurely goddamn way he was spying on me. that is infuriating. no. that is infuriating! yes. i rarely use exclamation points. that one was warranted. he needs something thrown at him. unfortunately i was too flustered to make a positive ID of his punk ass. fucking fuck. why can't i be cool *all* of the time?

and yo. okay. hmmmm. i'm trying to decide if i should talk about this next part. something i'm planning to do that's going to make me look a lot different. gosh. it's so fucking stupid and still personal and i guess i'll just spring it on y'all when it's done. just wish me luck, in the meantime.

i meant to write something schema-breaking up in this piece. it's still brewing or i'm distracted by the two emails i got today that wanted to break my fucking heart. i dunno.

mixed messages and love out to the heavyweights.



angelina just pulled your coat at 5/28/2004 07:14:13 PM

 
i thought the roofers were gone, yo. or at least replaced. on my way to the crib last night one of them fucking whistled at me and. wait.

i should say that i don't mind a whistle.

but there are at least 2 kinds that get tossed in a woman's direction by men on the street. one kind sounds off appreciation and greeting. if you look in the direction of the whistler, you even get a wave. when this happens, i curtsy and say thank you and keep stepping.

the other kind is completely one sided. repeated until it feels dirty. if you look at the whistler he's generally with a bunch of his homies and not a fucking one of them is taking credit for it.

yesterday's whistle was of the latter variety. so i stopped, whirled around, stared every motherfucker on the roof down, rolled my eyes and went into my house.

so anyway. the roof looks done. sigh relief, right? i thought they were gone.

so imagine my surprise at stepping out of the shower this morning and finding myself staring straight at one of those little bastards, calmly enjoying a coca cola while watching me in my bathroom. he fucking SMILED at me, yo.

in moments like that, when i'm dealing with rage that has its roots in feeling powerless, i'm not as effective as i'd like to be. i should have thrown a potted plant at the motherfucker.

but being naked and all i used the only weapon i had readily available. hand on hip and brandished middle finger. of course. i might be flattering myself but i suspect that my actions just gave him more material to jack off to.

fuck. friday better get fucking better, yo.

angelina just pulled your coat at 5/28/2004 10:53:15 AM

 


so word. we learn to break rules. most peeps aren't born with it. we learn the limits of being bitchy or callous or inconsiderate. of telling off-color jokes. of cutting in line. of saying no as loudly as we have to. we learn that shit in degrees and on the way to mastering it has got to be the most fucked up thing, sort of everyone wanting to prove how easy it is to write a person off.

the cool thing, i suspect, is that we've got a good deal of really sexy and delicious folks who blaze the trail. they might not mean to but they give inspiration to things like a "josephine baker bathing suit" and other such tasty bits of property we might hold dear. first things we'd rescue in a fire.

muhammed ali afro picks.

jack kerouac coffee cups.

eazy-e levis.

still brewing and i have an appointment to keep. several, i guess. out.

angelina just pulled your coat at 5/27/2004 06:07:33 PM

 
i mentioned before, yes? how the house of usher probably fell because of all the goddamn *words* poe heaped on top of it? adjectives made more adjective-y by the addition of words like "dreadfully", "excruciatingly", "oppressively", and such? there's a word for that but i'm at a loss. it's no matter, as it makes houses crumble.

who needs more words? i'm thinking in pictures lately.

there's four million and four people to fall in love with on the internet.

there's like, a million billion to fall in love with in real life.

it's enough to make one's head spin. it really is.

angelina just pulled your coat at 5/27/2004 11:02:16 AM

 


i'm brewing something and it's really thick and heavy feeling. hard to contain. a two-part thing maybe, to share with the comrades or to put into physical letter form and send to everyone i'm in love with. i dunno. it's just really heavy.

but first i have to go buy tyranny some newports to congratulate him on the carly simon thing.

and i need to somehow communicate to mega that she never never ever ever *ever* has to eat anyone's poor. ever. but she's totally invited to a barbecue where we'll be serving pork. and lots of it.

and i need to mention this. in case i haven't. karen reminded me of this the last time i posted warriors pictures and really it's almost the only reason i watched the movie last night. it's that scene where swan and mercy are riding the subway, right? and these deluxe and floofy prom kids get on and they're all just so fucking *clean* and the femininity so fucking *precious* in taffeta and lace, dig?

and there's mercy. and she's very fucking rugged looking and she's got scrapes and dirt on her face and her skirt has a missing piece from where swan reached down and tore some of it off to make a molotov cocktail to throw at her loser ass boyfriend before they made their getaway. and she's low-rent. and she's not going to prom. and the prom kids remind her of all of that shit so she starts sort of trying to smooth herself, you know? the way how when you're not thinking, you can start to try to compensate for cheap shoes. as if you could.

and swan. okay and this is the thing. swan reaches over and pulls her hands back down into her lap *without even fucking looking over at her*. just staring straight ahead at the prom kids and making sure his girl doesn't lose her pride on a goddamn subway train.

okay. and i'm not starstricken hollywood sucker or anything but there are times when something in a movie just sort of makes it crystal. offers a moment that i want to write a whole fucking book about. swan and mercy on the train is one of them.

the best warriors site like, ever.

angelina just pulled your coat at 5/26/2004 08:26:14 PM

 


okay. deep breath. some things you should know. we should know.

the warriors makes it better. it does. i found this out last night after i wrote that shit all steamed and angry about something so trivial as to not really need to register on my radar. my radar is vast, though. and no nearly selective enough. i focused power last night.

out came the DVD. mercy and swan. i'm in love.

there's more to this but right now i'm testing this big important thing and the future of our ability to safely distribute pornographic content is dependent on me keeping my head in the game.

angelina just pulled your coat at 5/26/2004 11:09:51 AM

 


the last really heartfelt thing i remember was something like,

fuck this shit. this fucking fucjk.

that's a silly stab at it. unethical to check the archives. but there *was* one mistake. i know that much. and believe you me. that one typo? volumes. spoke goddamn volumes. we're both meticulous, you see. even in casual barely rhythmic online chats. we never once LOLd together. or any of that other shit.

okay so now fast forward and i'm watching someone else fucking someone i used to fuck by trying to fuck me. isn't that kind of. ummmm. i dunno. gay, i think is the word i'm looking for? sick, a little? pathetic? i'm supposed to be okay with serving that small slice of role in his star-studded cast? that situation can eat a dick. for reals.

so yeah. fuck this shit. this fucking fuck. instead i'll order chinese and look for a kickboxing class while i wait for it to show up.

andy's on 9th avenue has the best goddamn potstickers in all of san francisco.

the fantasy paperback rolecall:

holden caulfield - paramount and graceful disenchantment
chuck palahniuk - unmatched way with words and the ability to make vomit into this gorgeous thing
eldridge cleaver - the allegory of the three eunuchs, eyes all flinty
teacake - for the worship of the thing plus man enough to bow down to

i'm thinking there's more but that fills my jeep so i'm done.

sometimes the real magical act is lifting the goddamn veil *away* from a thing. saying fuck the flourish and then revoking your smoke and mirrors just to show it exactly as it is even if it's gaggy and raw. sometimes that's the best trick we've got up our sleeves.



angelina just pulled your coat at 5/25/2004 08:28:11 PM

 
an aside. i've got this from a reliable source. the horse's mouth (containing 34 teeth). it appears that some kid wants to date me or rather took an interest because he thinks someone i *used* to date is REALLY FUCKING COOL and yo. i cram to understand that logic. i'm floundering here. i was expecting it way more pure than that.

i wouldn't have expected the outcome, really. i was just playing around.

one of the less magical things about existing is that moment when we stop being innocent and learn about currency.

in less than a second our hearts get replaced with triple beams.

hopefully this is not irreversible.

angelina just pulled your coat at 5/25/2004 12:25:08 PM

 
i should perhaps mention before going much further that i want to marry dave chappelle. i know that's so tired as hell now but get this i saw that cat live two years ago and aside from too much info re: his sex life i left positively wanting him accompanying me through every wall and hall from there on out.

rick james, bitch? will not get tired for me. in august, when i come see you rabblerousing mothafuckas, there will be a gang of eye rolling due to my never finding it inappropriate to call an entire group of people "bitches". i owe that to dave. at work, i walk into the kitchen during lunch to let everyone know that "it's lunchtime, bitches" and they should enjoy themselves. dave's made it okay to do that.

thanks, dave.

my homies will trade comments like. hmmm. "oh great, it's angelina. i wonder what it is this time." "whatever it is i bet it ends in 'bitches'" smirk.

but it will stay in rotation, i suspect, until i end up going to some somber event like a wake or something(gosh i'd hate that. don't need it. i get the willies thinking about it. everyone i know is immortal, right? right.) and i'm forced into introspection after walking into the service and yelling because of habit, "it's a funeral service, bitches..."

before i can get out the part about enjoyment and all, i'll be ushered out. and that cute little black jackie o style dress i made *specifically for our collective time of grief and sober rose colored lens wearing* will be wasted on a burger joint or maybe an ice cream parlor. lord knows i won't just sit in the car and wait.

still though. i'd totally marry dave chappelle.

angelina just pulled your coat at 5/24/2004 11:37:28 PM

 


and left to their own devices. these boys.

oh my, can you picture that? this sad little world even sadder? lacking even more? all of the missing soft and good shit?

let's just thank our lucky stars.

boys like alex. and you. and you. and maybe you.

troublemakers.

i've loved that kind since i learned how to love, though. trumping everyone else's mannish tough guy routine and getting away with just about everything. the largest capacities for breaking me, too.

most times i go in for that. others i just flip the script.

this was something before about men's men and how women make it better. i don't own those thoughts completely yet and there was something missing. so this is what's left. ravaged and still kinda shiny at least rhythmic if nothing else.

pulsar fabulous.

angelina just pulled your coat at 5/24/2004 09:27:55 PM

 


horrorshow.

today would be the day that some nice kid asks me to go see saul williams cause he has an extra ticket and i can't go because i'm a foggy mess. i woke up today like extra late on purpose due to having to stay at work pretty late anyway and as i was in the bathroom, getting ready to brush the pearly whites?

bang smash clank boom bang.

next door. the neighbors. they are tearing the roof off of the house. not like the best shindig ever either. like, literally. removing their roof. i assume they'll be putting it back on but who knows? people can be wacky.

so ya. twentythree strapping young men on the roof next door eye level with our gorgeous heretofore safe haven of a bathroom. (that number, by the by, gets larger every time i tell the story. last time there were eighteen of them. in reality? more like five. but word.)

i. couldn't. shower.

so that meant recycled savage hairdo and just kinda not quite awake all day.

plus i'm testing this thing. plus i feel like shit.

so no saul.

my new favorite word fun to have is to give ringleaders to things that don't have ringleaders.

see also: "she's the ringleader of that salad bar line."

this will probably only last for another hour or two though.

angelina just pulled your coat at 5/24/2004 07:07:54 PM

 
JASON JESSE IS A RILLY RILLY RILLY
HOT SKATER. OG IN DICKIES AND PURE SEXABILITY.
ALL. GOOD.



oh mickey
you're so fine

gilbert o'sullivan plus melancholy plus not finishing what needs finished makes me wanna delete that last post but know what? in an unprecedented feat of intestinal fortitude plus my desire to make raw bold not lacking a goddamn thing the order of the day i'll just post pictures of superhot boys that i have laying around and kinda make small talk or just. i dunno. be relentless.

****inner mission****
somethings missing and i gotta fix it. only the hardcore (read: night owls and new york swinging and ass kicking thoroughbreds [what a great goddamn word that is, by the way, thoroughbred. wish it could be applied to yours truly]) know how important this is. how maybe i just took one or two or at the very very most four more nighttime cold capsules than i should have. lord. do not worry. it's been done before. cures insomnia of all types.

keeps monsters tucked in my closet. with the ultramini dresses and homemade shrugs. they get bored and play dressup. i have very well-dressed monsters.

life sometimes is like nicole mallory (fifth grade idol of yours truly, see link below for details) threw a party and invited me (imagine that, all of my geeky self invited to hang with the cool kids) and hired benicio del toro to serve champagne.

crystal. or whatever. you should know that two hundy a bottle champagne tastes to me like ten dollar a bottle champage. taj said it was better. she compared it to coke, said it made you just feel good and whole and magnificent. umm. no. but see, she was hanging with the whole of wu tang, and maybe got different shit. i've never even once met old dirty bastard. though i've heard stories that would flip your lid.

so ya. this great big party thrown by my idol and tended to by the hottest man on earth and i'm invited.

that's what life feels like sometimes. most times. when it does not i run to words and hope to talk it into something sweeter. i put eight sugar cubes in every cup of tea that i drink. put an entire package of pez in my mouth and grin. eat candy watches by throwing them up in the air, catching them on my tongue, and then sucking until there's nothing but elastic string in my mouth.

in other words i'm sweet. so much so that i shock systems.

all of this to say that i don't find it very difficult to make life feel more like a carnival. i'm a walking goddamn cotton candy caramel apple stand. it just happens. and so. now we all know.

as this second occurs, i am looking for a song called "jesus' son" by joe henry, and cannot find it.

i want that (having gotten UGK earlier this afternoon), a speak and spell and an apple laptop.

everything else is just flotsam and jetsam.

i'll go on the record as saying this is how i roll.

at least for now.

the key, i suspect, is soaking life and everything up as though we can't get enough. responding even when we think the other person is on another level. that keeps the sweetest things coming and coming and coming. plus, keep coming. we all have much more to offer.

and i think. since we're in the mood for tearing shit up. it's completetly time for fierce machiavelli. one of my online loves and well. i been out of contact. but word. playa playa, still in my head most definitely so ya. love. go see that kid. and see TRUE. that will set your day straight. party for your right to fight. sheeeeit. xoxo.

ps: on repeat at the moment is 10cc tearing up "i'm not in love" fit to break anyone's heart who happens to care about any fucking thing, i suspect. i'm not in love. so don't forget. it's just a silly phase i'm going through. that sort of convincing another person while you're still convincing yourself that you're not so very enchanted? one of the more hopeless feelings and whoah daddy, does it resonate? ya. cept see, i got way more to give, is the crucial and numinous aspect of this thing. the thing that has me blinging in my sleep. and hell shit goddamn. while i'm at it? good goshdarn fucking fuck. well:

pps: i totally miss die Lowin (i know i know. missing goddamn two dots or if you insist on proper English i'd say that The "o" in that name, if I am not mistaken, is missing an umlaut. had you pegged for someone else and i apologize. so come by and stir shit up. or do you need ali to be gorgeous for the party people?

MIKE SKINNER FROM BIRMINGHAM, ENGLAND.
HE HAS THE SEXIEST IDENTITY CRISIS EVER. THINKS HE'S
A BROTHA AND IT'S ALL GOOD CAUSE HE'S GOT THAT ACCENT, SAVVY?



you're so fine you blow my mind
hey mickey
angelina just pulled your coat at 5/24/2004 02:00:30 AM

 


there must be some misunderstanding

i'm living on candy and ice cream. not intentionally, but. well yo, i went to the grocery store kinda out of it and bought cookies and ice cream sammiches and dried mango and sugar and everything sweet and like three things that weren't made for dessert and they were either paper or garnish. my fault? not really. blame the sun for not shining brightly enough to get me out of bed before noon. shit.

and then horror of horrors my new crush the rhymesayer does not eat beef. what then of the millions of steak-oriented rendezvous i'm constantly planning? two hundred dollar dinners and cigar lounges? live lobsters brought around for show and tell plus people coming over to kiss ass like every fifteen minutes because at a bill a plate you get that kind of service? cannot do that at a vegetarian restaurant. plus tofu scares me. life doesn't make sense sometimes.

there must be some kind of mistake

in the store i got totally busted singing phil collins. some cat eyeballing the asian pears next to me was on the lookout and totally gave me the "you're a total fucking dork" look when he heard be getting all emotional and melodic. what can i say? i'm a sucker for 80's left me in the rain song.

just now? once more? i peeked. i've had enough kicking my ass. someone else step in now. i'm too fabulous for all of this regulating.

i was waiting in the rain for hours

i skip through my life, really. avoid real trouble by asking and hurting openly. do my job. invite questions and come up with them. dress spectacularly and touch my neck a lot. i feel i can't say it enough. the world. loves. a savage.

at least temporarily. and that's what's got me troubled this evening. the part that doesn't last. the realization, late in the game, that the pet names were recycled and i've been a thing to be replaced. how could i stand for that? how could i walk into that?

and you were late

but i did. tonight i guess finds me considering that decision. not feeling bad, exactly. just. disappointed in my spidey senses. i suspected they were keener.

this is all of you. no one should get too swollen in the head. each and all of yas if you aren't the paramount seals bringing new definitions? the same. chalked up in my book of questionable acquaintances as i am in yours. big difference is that i don't floss you cats. my game and pedigree, at the very least, is just secure like that. dig.

over and out.

angelina just pulled your coat at 5/24/2004 01:38:42 AM

 


now if you shoot my dog, i'ma kill your cat

his brother's keeper.

okay so it was most likely a mistake to watch menace ii society in the middle of a sunday afternoon, am i right? it's been like 10 years since i saw that flick. it's really just too much.

pumping america full of fear re: drive bys and carjackings and little boys cooking up dope in the dark kitchens of south central.

funny though, i don't recall a fear of cops sweeping this fine nation of ours. not wholesale. nuh-uh.

an invitation implicit in this memorandum: prove me wrong.

words should really come easily now having been forced into this corner and feeling so unmanageable but none are forthcoming at the mo so i'm just gonna leave this up as a placeholder.

it really is a lovely thought. the most delicious ultimatum:

if you don't give me heaven i'll raise hell

angelina just pulled your coat at 5/23/2004 07:41:35 PM

 


sometimes we are hurt but we act angry. confusing to the bystander or object or any flies on the wall. but perfectly rational, when you think about it.

i've gone here before.

anger allows more baggage to be borne. ego and drama and lack and whatever your fucking mom did or didn't do that still vexes you. that shit. you can carry it and still be angry and still feel powerful.

not so with hurt. hurt just allows vulnerability.

same goes for love, actually.

so anger can be the answer.

i've got a very short wishlist today:

1. "Pocket Full of Stones" by UGK
2. camoflauge air force ones
3. a cheesesteak

two out of three wouldn't be bad.

angelina just pulled your coat at 5/23/2004 02:07:30 PM

 


get your trueboy on. now, please. come along and be on howard stern with me in my camoflauge corset and fitz in pink chiffon and true wearing (oh i hope i hope) jesse james pink bandana. yes yes yes. and there will be more but their outfits are undecided so i can't unveil.

we'll be as sexy as. as. as those kids from the bloodhound gang? you remember? multicultural super-sleuths?

we'll be that sexy but triple it cause we're all of age and like, totally fuckable.

noteworthy that i am not motivated by politics or protest. ever. but i really fucking enjoy a good motherfucking party, yo. and i love the idea of all of these supercriminal supergenius superhero supervillain mothafuckas swarming anything interesting and shaking sidewalks plus checking out your boyfriend and dissing you for holding up the wall. do you see that? huge and fucking lovely outlaw block party. plus squares, you see. new humans.

okay so i deleted that last post cause it was stupid. i only allow myself one stupid pointless post per waking life session. more than that would be like, i dunno, fucking with my rep.

and it's immense, my rep is. trumps your puny arsenal of non-believers and stupid playground insults.

i dunno why i just wrote that. but it sticks cause i like the sound of it.

pay up pay up pay up mothafuckas, is what i mean to say. it's the price for flight. let those fucking fugazis take greyhound.

but as saul would say, *we're* too fly not to fly. savvy?

oh and today's phrase that pays is "gold tooth aesthetic".

xo.


angelina just pulled your coat at 5/21/2004 09:44:53 AM

 
soon this will be a link to a song for the deputy. i'm all. poor righteous teachers "144k" or camp lo "luchini"? then i'm all. "luchini". but of course. anything else would be uncouth.

he and i have this thing between us, you dig.

lemme know if that shit didn't upload completely, ahight? your girl is busy. things to do. people to see. blah motherfucking blah blah blah. but i'll always. always. always. make time for you, sweet thing. word is bond.

okay and also? tyranny's gonna tell our asses a story. at my request, even. he's that cool. i've not read it. but based on my unbounded admiration of that kid i'll wager that it's satisfying like flapjacks. go read go read. i'm not saying shit here anyway.

and somewhere in his comments? someone called my brain sexy. which just makes me all shivery and shit.

internal soliloquy:

so far i've been chatty cathy and curious georgina. the latter much to my chagrin. but how sexy is it that i can kick my own ass and then give myself shit for kicking my own ass? plus roll my eyes while doing both.

even get all. talk to the hand. at myself?

hot.

okay and then i wrote a drunken embarassing email to this kid i met at a party. one of those emails that either makes a person go "word. she's on some other shit and she's saucy" or they're all "this broad is a lunaTIC. for reals. ummm. delete." but i personally think it was hot and guess what? it was a shock, yo. i seen a picture of him today? and he's all cute and shit. thing about that is it was so fucking dark in that mug i had no idea. double extra bonus points. i must have done something nice while i was sleepwalking.

hmmm. what else?

oh yeah. eating thai food with a plastic knife cuz i'm too lazy to get a fork from the kitchen.

half a bottle of merlot = curtains for that shit, as i'm metabolizing it

and the only thing i haven't done? the one thing i'm s'posed to do. fucking sew, yo.

miss r just went up into the attic and when she comes down? she'll have made like three dresses and a matching purse. with no pinning and tedious bullshit that i put myself through to make things. that is why she is my idol. the wind, as they say, beneath my wings.

so i'm on it. like white on rice. love love and drunken words and. hi jennie. hi TRUE. i think they're gonna TiVo this revolution. which is good cause it's the freshmaker. labor of love and sent from above and TRUE rocks. holy hell i ran out of rhymes.

TRUEEEE. can i link your invitation? you maybe won't see this then i'll look like a jackass but wine makes me bold like tyson when he's not on his lithium. but more dangerous. and not all. you know. inclined to bite people's ears off and shit.

word. xo.

bonus! a visual of my descent (did i spell that right?) into crazed and sexy debauchery. fuck glasses. word.

**amendments. i'm just that grand tonight.**

ps: lots of edits cause i'm drunk and wordy.

pps: i'm almost fighting mad that i wasted bandwidth (kick my ass later for saying that word. right now i'm too drunk to fight back.) to download freek a leek or whatever by petey pablo. not feeling that shit. ummm. too short already did the ho shout out and he did it way cleaner than you, pahtnah. no offense but. ya. not moved by that song. i like your other shit though. so don't hold a grudge, playa.

ppps: if you can get your hands on a song called "goodies" by mr. pablo and some little sweet voiced girline, do please lemme know. it's a song about virginity that kinda makes you want to fuck. and that's pretty badass. more girls in halfshirts and too low jeans. yay! haha. love. you.

iv. : turns out the drunken email didn't scare homes away. bigups. the world loves a savage. extra game awarded cause: yo. the kid tore it up with me on the dancefloor to like eightyfive tupac songs. that's a goddamn magical act.

v.: good fucking fuck. i'm drunk. that's so hot i want to slip myself a mickey.

vi.: everything but the link to sir tyranny and matthew's song gets deleted come dawn. and i betcha. unless someone leaves like the best comment ever.



angelina just pulled your coat at 5/20/2004 09:17:55 PM

 


i don't bother with a glass, most times. i mean. given the choice. but don't call me an alcoholic.

don't get me wrong. if you come over for a cocktail, i'm not going to force you to pass a bottle with me. for the most part that'd be kinda ill. downright rude, actually.

but it's another story if we've got two heads and two bottles of champagne. or if i'm alone.

oh wait. now you're all thinking i'm a lush because i drink alone. that's bullshit, i think. i don't know who generated that piece of lovely scientific theory, but it was probably a goddamn drunkard. you gonna trust a drunkard to diagnose your shit? i mean damn.

myself. i don't need an audience to drink. don't need anyone to bounce my drunkness off of. that's how fucking good i am at it.

so yeah. at the moment i'm procrastinating and drinking merlot from a pretty bottle. i'm putting off a project but not for much longer.

but while i'm on the subject. about excess and intoxication. i'll just share a moment i witnessed.

*in the drug room / at a party / once. upon. a time.*

coke girl is chopping up a line and kinda grooving to the current dj. clearly feeling her shit and having a good time. her homie is looking at the pictures on the wall.

coke girl: you want some of this?

homie: naah. i'm cool.

there's a few seconds of silence while coke girl finds something to inhale through. she leans down to do her line and

homie: will you feel better about doing *cocaaaaine* if i do it with you?

kinda trying to be funny but not good at it? like that? nothing sexier than a homie who gives you a guilt trip while you're drugging out.

coke girl: (sssssssssssniiiiiiff). no. i'll just feel like i have less coke.

*************

hahaaaa. solid retort. what i mean to say is. if you're gonna do something, do the fuck out of it.

angelina just pulled your coat at 5/20/2004 06:48:57 PM

 
"...having conquered Germany through his soft rock skills."

life as i know it might actually be over soon

no one's ever the same after they listen to "the hoff" i bet.


angelina just pulled your coat at 5/20/2004 12:06:38 PM

 
blah i'm up way too early today because we are pushing out that thing i went crazy testing last week. kind of a big deal.

last night or rather it was really this morning i had a dream about someone that i see really often and it was kind of a sex dream. well. we were dating in the dream, but we didn't want anyone else to know. plus, he grew the most beautiful garden for me and then let me take credit for all of the flowers, even the gerber daisies.

anyway, the weird thing is that i've never had a single sexual thought about this person. until now. and i think it's gonna be rather funny seeing him all the time with this newly manufactured jump his bones urge that i have.

angelina just pulled your coat at 5/20/2004 06:24:51 AM

 
now it's time to get on the mic / spike lee say get on the bus

sometimes shoulders back works against the sort of proud stance you're attempting. check ck models and boys on the grind for confirmation. sometimes what's really called for if you want a bulletproof front is a sort of slouching into your sneakers and low key i'm not really here sort of vibe.

when you want to slump this is what you need to slump to.

check proud but a little tucked in. you ever see tupac do that one dance? with his shoulders? that's my old faithful standby move when i'm out dancing. that's the basics of it. putting so little on it that it looks like you don't care what happens next.

and a straight razor. in your. waistband.

all that speak softly carry a big stick shit, is what i'm getting at. but remixed for the thug in you.

if it is indeed in you.

check these simp dramatics last night at some point i put up the acoustic version of "anna begins" by counting crows to make you guys feel soft and mushy. i took it down this morning because upon waking i realized that i'd prefer soldiers on my team and it takes one to know one so i'd better get my act together.

immortalize my paltry faith. cover it in platinum and twinkly diamonds. wear it around my neck.

these things move me.

i took a few things back last night, one of which was a link to the archives. for this version. dating back to january 2002 or some shit like that. totally unnecessary as that's like reading the autobiography of a fictional character. that stellar representative of femininity doesn't even exist anymore.

if you would, give me some more adjectives that mean "mighty fucking fine" as i'm running out.

the other thing i'll mention before re-offering some bullshit about what a great goddamn love interest i can be is that this dude at my work calls me "sweetie", right?

and okay. i've read the books and heard the speeches about why that should bother me.

instead i just find it fucking lovely. goddamn call me "sweetie" "honey" "babydoll" and "kitten" all day long, if you will. i can never get enough saucy little words that end up being synonymous with me.

plus i guess it doesn't hurt that he comes across as completely respecting the way i do my job. my job is rather technical and it's pretty important that people fucking listen to me at work. he does. when i say something has to be redone he redoes it. when i say something isn't working or some stupid tail -f has given me more than i bargained for he gets on it.

if he happens to call me sweetie while he's doing that shit? well. bonus, yo.

i just love terms of endearment. throw them at me and when my hands are full i'll put them in my pockets.



go get yo work and keep yo beeper chirpin, it's a must

angelina just pulled your coat at 5/19/2004 08:27:51 PM

 
my god i'm quite possibly the happiest woman in the world to find out that

i'm the number motherfucking one result for this search.

honestly? i could sleep for a month or so now and still wake up feeling like i got some shit done.

blinging in my sleep. xoxo.

angelina just pulled your coat at 5/19/2004 06:31:37 PM

 


oh no you didn't.

sometimes someone grabs a picture of me and it's perfectly representative of my vibe at the time. it's rare, because cameras make me freeze up. i'm not photogenic. but if you catch me talking shit then you're generally money.

talking shit is where i shine. so i try to make all gatherings of worth into a cypher.

tonight found me at a loss having peeked and having not wanted to. having peaked and having not wanted to. having piqued and having not wanted to. you dig. one of those evenings where concern crept slowly 'round the corner and reminded me that i'm human. generally, i'm just a superheroine so no worries to be found but once in a while i get shaken down.

stunned. stunning. i can't help but buddy those two up. where i'm concerned some of the biggest bling kicks in slapping my palm to my head like oh my goodness gracious what the fuck?

the phone rings at midnight and it's three a.m. in new york. someone's in the lab and i'm not forgotten but i'm extracurricular. a california diversion. made for hotels and VIP lounges but not wifey.

i want to write it on walls. want to fucking SKYWRITE it. put it in its place. for now forever for the life of me can't understand but essentially i'm grateful for those lasting soft bits that i possess. oh gosh i sense melodrama kicking in. cover your eyes. plug your ears in fact, as i am screaming right now.

okay so you don't know me. no one knows anyone. that "no man is an island" shit is garbage because if we aren't solo we just aren't. it's our only existence, the solo version. we exist in our heads.

remember your very best moment. right now. bring it up in all of its pretty glory and detail and sound and taste and emotion and just fucking all of it. walk it through. hold its hand. dwell in it.

but it's fake. not to be a downer or anything. chances are though we have to train ourselves to relive a thing first person. easier to see it like a movie because we're trained. seeing it like a movie? makes it clear that it never happened like that because that's not how we took it all in. centered enough to see it first person we still can't avoid the embellishments and delicious additions we're responsible for.

in the end it's okay. wringing my hands gives way to spreading my wings.

this was just a journal entry. forgive the nonsense. lovelovelove. okay? okay.

we are. in most every moment. as big and as unforgettable as we care to be. so let's choose wisely.

angelina just pulled your coat at 5/19/2004 01:10:10 AM