The Lyrics of Life in LA

Well, as it happens in my life, I have been very busy and not very good at sitting my butt down to do more than wash a dish here and there, let alone blog.

It's not that I don't love you.
I do.
You're special.
Yes you.
It's just...life has been providing me with lots of adventures.
And you know how I love a good adventure...or 70.

Here is the not so short recap of what has been taking me away from you.

First, Derek was in town and that meant one thing: PARTY.
Yes, it had only been a week since the last party at Sting's Mailbu pad but who was I to say no? Derek et al were leaving for London the next day so they decided to leave with a bang. I went swimming in the Pacific at 2am and mother it was cold. Then, while all the others were freezing their bits off, I stealthly went into the lagoon (the heated pool). It was nice. Drinking wasn't necessary to have fun, but that didn't stop us. Derek said we all needed to finish the alcohol up since they were vacating but the problem was even though we all gave it the old college try, people kept bringing liquor. A good time was had by all.
I was happy that we were leaving prior to the 4am exit time we had sported the week before.

Sunday, I had my hair done FOR FREE at a swank Beverly Hills salon and flirted like nevermind with my stylist who kept making sure I knew he was straight. Actually, there were 4 men who worked on my hair in total..all straight. I don't think I have ever had this much concentrated attention from straight men fondling my hair this much in such a short period of time. If I told you I hated it, I would be lying. I am a glutton for pampering. And when it comes from cute men who want to, I am not the girl to stop them. My hair looked amazing and I felt like I was walking in slow motion with hair spun out of gold.

Looking good was fortunate since I had a date that night with Leo. I had a fabulous time and constantly had the feeling that I had known him for a long time.

Tuesday, I get a call from Jazzy inviting me to a screening of "500 days of summer" with her and Mads. Off we went to the ArcLight. There was a Q&A afterwards with the writer, director and cast. I love movies about LA. Especially downtown LA. Visually it was great. Story-wise it wasn't bad but it seemed to try too hard at times to be something it didn't need to be.

Which is something I would NEVER do. Even at the after party at the Falcon where the photographer actually clicked pictures to the right of me and to my left and when his eyes landed on me, he blinked and froze. Then he moved his camera away in a hurry.
I took it personally momentarily until I noticed he did it to Tri-Pod, Mads and Jazzy too.
I think we intimidated him with our awesomeness.

So, I thought it would be prudent to crane myself into the back of several shots he was taking of "other" people. let him photoshop me out. I dare him. I looked good!

4th of July weekend was amazing if not too too short.
Started the weekend out with another amazing date with Leo. Go Leo! This guy makes me laugh.

Spent Friday with Leigh, AJ and Aubbers. 3 bottles of wine later, we blamed it on AJ's friend who had actually only been drinking coke. How did he sneak ALL that wine past us?

Woke up in their place Saturday morning with the feeling that I had not been in my own bed for a few days and either this felt very liberating or kind of pathetic at my age. I couldn't believe I didn't look more worn out.

Sat was my mom's birthday Woot!

And Sat evening was spent with good friends on a hilltop in Tarzana watching rockets red glare.
Drinking wasn't necessary to have fun, but that didn't stop us.
Tequila bottles kept appearing and then kept disappearing in everyone's gullets. As I was one of the drivers, I didn't partake but I do love me some tequila.
The valley twinkled below us and aside from my left foot being eaten alive by some kind of bug, it was an awesome night.

Sunday, the Bowl with Mads and Jazzy to see Deathcab for Cutie, Tegan and Sara and The New Pornographers. Drinking wasn't necessary to have fun, but that didn't stop us. I said something like, "this is the weekend of the pickling my insides". I wasn't kidding though everyone laughed.

It was a gorgeous night and the Hollywood Bowl does something to me that makes me feel relaxed and alive simultaneously. Especially when they play amazing music with fireworks there is good food and wine. I get all gooey inside. I like it.

This was one of the first 4th of July weekends I have ever had where I didn't feel sad, homicidal, suicidal or angry. Though I did get into it with a few people here and there, I chalk that up to fatigue.

Monday was Jazzy's and Zapato's birthday where we all mixed and mingled for margaritas and mexican food. Yum yum. Knowing I had a full week still ahead of me of socializing, I bowed out from party phase 2 where they went on to the Roger Room.

Last night, my work put on an amazing concert on the garage roof top with several top Hollywood movie score composers where they actually played their own music. As the sun was setting and the air grew breezy and summer cool, I drank some more wine (the pickling hadn't stopped) and enjoyed the music and the socializing and was grateful that I got to witness something that would probably not happen again on one stage.

So you see...it's not my fault I haven't been around for you.
It's just that things are happening.
Lots of things.
More to come, even.
But I swear, I will totally be more diligent about giving you some love and attention.
Or at least invite you to some of the adventures.

You would like that, wouldn't you?

I thought so. You are so pretty/handsome when you agree.

xoxo

Mermaid

At work, it's all about the Sea-Monkeys that we are watching down the hall live in their Lord of the Flies eat or be eaten manner.
And we watch the bullies grow as they either eat or vaporize their bretheren.

I hope that is not a metaphor for life.

I mean, my life. I know that around the world at the moment, all kidding aside, there are things like that happening. My thoughts and hopes go out to the people in Iran that are fighting for their personal freedoms.

On a lighter note, I have noticed that my personal freedom is expanding as is my creative freedom.
The more I go out, the more people I am meeting that are resonating with my vibe and it makes me feel very heady.

At Cirque Berzerk, I met a couple that invited me to join them post intermission in better seats closer to the stage. Amazing show and meeting another kindred spirit was pretty cool when all I was expecting was to see some fire, theatrics and acrobats.

After the show, I met up with Jazzy at Swingers and it was socializing as we do.

Last night, Reb and I headed over towards a commercial space on Central to partake in a very artistic party in a cool space/showroom. The soiree was intimate and the people were inspiring and the design of the whole interior made me feel like Alice in Wonderland if Alice had been a bit burlesque-y. Was Alice a bit burlesque-y? I wonder if Tim Burton's version will make it seem like that. Time will tell.

In any case, my inner Burlesque is starting to emerge which signifies to me that the time to re-enter the dance world is beckoning. And that makes me happy.

I am trying to feed all my creative endeavors at once (dance, music, words, comedy, photography) so that one does not overtake the others, leaving some to totally evaporate from my aresenal.

Like the bullying sea-monkeys seem to be doing to each other, where in their clear world where before our eyes, like magic, they either get bigger or they disappear from our view.

I have spent a lifetime being offended.
Worried that I would be left out of things/events/good times.
As a child, if we had people visiting, I didn't want to shower, lest I miss something fabulous.
Nothing ever fabulous happened but that irrational worry was always there.

And I have spent a lifetime trying to run after the party train.
Running keeps you fit.
But it also makes you tired.
Especially if you don't think that the YOU are the party train.
Like Fun is where ever you are not.

At least that is how I acted.
Even though I bring the fun.
I bring the laughs.
And lately, I bring the camera.

So my goal of late has been to not be offended.
Not by words.
And not by actions like not being invited.
Because I have taken umbrage with many perceived slights.
Not that they weren't actual slights, but everything is how we perceive it anyway.
If a man gives me the finger in the car next to me and I don't see it.
It doesn't change that fact that he still gives me the finger.
I just didn't take it on.
And that is how I am trying to move through the world.
Like I am slick...rather than velcro.

And the weird and wonderful thing is....in changing my view, I am actually being included more.

What a crazy week it has been:

David Sedaris reading at the Grove - re-ignited the fire under my butt to keep writing the way I do. He made me realize we all have a voice. His is high. But it fit him.
My Neighbor Lisa got there early and got SaraCat and me the required wristbands that made seeing him read all the more intimate. We had a great viewing spot. And I never knew that I would find him even more charming in person when he read. But I did.

Went to drinks with KAboss and Ange after work one night where we could very well have been on an episode of "Girls Behaving Badly". I blame KAboss...she is an instigator. KAboss had me play a joke on Toby whose bday party I would be attending later that evening.

Arriving at Toby's bday party later that night, Toby informed me that he would exact his revenge on KAboss (whom he doesn't know) by Labor Day
His party was fun. Good Korean BBQ with good friends and then drinks at the Prince, where Steven and Toby went to battle over the best album to come out of England in the last 20 years.
It was very east coast vs. west coast, but Mads felt it was man vs. woman so she interrupted the guys to say: "Kirsten, what is your favorite album?"
Steven, noticing this, said, "oh, do you feel we are ignoring you?"
Mads said, "Well, no one asked the girls which albums are their favorites."
Steven responded with "so Mads, what is your favorite album."
God bless that girl...she said, "I don't know if I am really an album kind of girl."
Steven rolled his eyes...and scene.

Friday, I hung out with Leigh in her new home.
She bbq'd some chicken and we chatted and drank.
AJ came home and we started doing name that 80's tune after several bottles of wine. Leigh was winning. So AJ brought out some angry German head banging music and put on a show for us.
The conversation that followed made me laugh soo hard that I almost threw up...true story. But I didn't actually throw up. Also true story.

Saturday, I was able to sleep in, only to wake up in enough time to jet over to my meditation group and get some grounding. I left several hours later to join Mads and Jazzy for dinner and then a party at Sting's place in Malibu that he rents out to people like my former boss.
It was quite a night of drinking, dancing, hot tubbing, running into the ocean at 3 am and then pizza at 4 am. Mads laughed that we were doing the walk of shame since it was technically morning. I said, that we weren't technically doing the walk of shame since no shaming behavior had taken place. Not a lot anyway.

This morning, as I caught up on emails with bleary eyes, Brujo IMs me to join him for coffee.
I woke up on the walk to the Coffee Bean and by the time I got there, felt a little more human.

I am preparing for an evening of Cirque Berzerk downtown: that crazy circus, burlesque, freak-show, entertainment whose origin began at Burning Man. I will enjoy myself despite that information.

Sleeping isn't something that I will get a lot of, I fear.

I spent a lifetime being offended.
But I no longer need to worry that I am being excluded from anything.
Life is definitely rolling out the red carpet for me lately.

And being the girl who no longer gets so easily offended, I strut down it.

And I won't mind spending a lifetime practicing that strut every chance I get.

With these social networking sites, 6 degrees of your life sometimes becomes 1 degree.
Or one and a half (if you don't really know the person) but have become online friends.

It's strange. And wonderful.

I have most of the people from my past right at my fingertips.

A few I had arguments with long ago that never got resolved until we accepted each others' friend requests.

And a few were people I had lost touch with.

It's hard if your past includes boyfriends you stay in online contact with that you contacted on a whim or whose request you accepted while you were perhaps drunk. And now you now have to see their recent photos of their new girlfriends, or how fabulous their lives are now that you aren't in it.

But you hide their posts and move along. No need for dramatics like Deletion.

This week was a typically busy social week for me.
But it was in no way, typical.

The Garden Party, which occurs after the Downtown Art Walk each month never disappoints.
How I found it was through several degrees of myself on Facebook.
My glamorous friend Rachael, who is always entertaining others or herself with fabulous adventures led me to Julie Lynn Rasmussen (she really has her finger on the pulse of all things social), who led me to Edgar Varela: the man who throws the Garden Party.

Then in another wacky connection, I found out that he attended the same Ruby Friedman Orchestra show last month at the Viper Room that I did. Only after I posted the pics, did we figure out that we had both been in attendance, and both been fans of the band.

PM and I have told her friend Monk about the Garden Party and for one reason or another, he didn't realize that the party we were talking about was the same one he was invited to by other friends of his who run isgoodmusic.com and who provided the bands for the party.
We went and had a great time and mingled with new people and enjoyed the music and felt like with every outing, our worlds get smaller, in a good way.

This week marked an anniversary of birthday and deathday (3 days before) of a friend of mine who passed away 3 years ago.
I think of her quite often and still feel she guides my life in a better way than she ever could when she walked among us.
I thought of her friend Nally who helped plan the Memorial and was integral in helping deal with all the chaos that consequently occurred after our friend's early and accidental departure.
Nally and I last spoke 2 years ago after a year post Memorial.
I thought about her this year.
She lived in my neighborhood and I wondered if she still did. Wondered how she was doing.
And it made me sigh thinking that I perhaps had dropped the ball.
Maybe she was someone I would just wonder about but never really follow through to find out my queries.

And then one day last week, a day after I thought about Nally, I get a friend suggestion from Facebook to add her as a friend.
I was stunned.
None of my friends knew her.
Why would Facebook suggest her?
And I looked to see that we had a mutual friend: the same Garden Party thrower, Edgar.

We reconnected.
I had a fabulous 3 hour coffee date with her today (where we saw Ryan Reynolds and Scarlett Johansson grab some food - he looked hot).
We caught up on all the things we had missed the past few years.
We remembered our mutual friend and wondered if she hadn't gotten us back in touch working her magic from the other side.
Or maybe it was Edgar and his power to bring people from various places into one room.
Or perhaps it was Facebook - in all its networking to make us become fewer and fewer degrees apart from each other until we become one, for a reason that will be revealed to us at some point in the near future.

Whatever it is, the journey keeps me scratching my head in wonder sometimes.
But it also keeps me smiling.

Back in January, when I was trying to get over someone, I decided to keep busy.
Keep busy doing a lot of things that were outside of my comfort zone.
And I discovered that by doing that, it took on a life of its own.

One thing, led to 5 things and before I knew it, I was truly busy and enjoying myself, not focusing on why I had started the "keep busy" plan in the first place.

It was all cool.
Until it became too much and I was like a woman on a roller coaster, who is starting to realize that the track is about to fly off into the sky: it's fun...until it isn't.

There was a lot of pressure to stay apprised of things: art, music, friends, my own creativity.
The more people told me that I was living this cool life,the more I didn't want to suddenly show my cards and go "psyche!" and reveal that I was just a poser.
I had to keep it going.
The house of cards was solely held together by my willpower.

And then at the height of my "keep busy" plan, I re-involved myself in something that was broken and should have stayed broken.
But I taped it together and called it new.
Truth is, it looked new to me. And I was happy.

But things that are broken continue to fall apart whether you want them to or not.

And they did.
Fall apart.

But this time, I didn't break.

And this time, my "keep busy" plan transformed into something that felt more organic to me.
I am actually right smack in my comfort zone.

But I am still having extraordinary experiences:
-Seeing my friends perform at Pinata and laughing to the point of tears.
-Dancing with My Neighbor Lisa and Saracat at the Medusa Lounge while my friend Shok dj'd.
-Going to Malo Mondays and to Spaceland to see Castledoor with My Neighbor Lisa and Saracat.
-Both outings with My Neighbor Lisa and Saracat ended with an excursion to House of Pies.
-Visiting with Leigh and Aubber and watching this toddler learn the value of making a captive audience laugh.
-A late night meeting with Brujo at the local coffee shop, sharing ooky spooky stories of life, death and everything in between. He read my tarot cards to reveal that aside from one tricky card, my future looks pretty bright.
-Spending an entire day laughing hysterically with Jazzy while she put flower arrangements together and I tried to figure out why my computer wasn't working, while we wondered where the visiting cat in her apartment had recently peed.
-Being inspired by images around me to write and take photos like I am actually prolific.

Ah yes, things feel right.
I may not be as keyed-in to any scene as I was at the beginning of 2009,
But I feel like I am exactly where I should be.

At least that is what the tarot cards say.

And I would be loathe to argue with them.

Reb and I like to meet for coffee.
Or wine.
And talk.
About things.
And we withhold any judgment on topics or any confessions.
We understand that life is tricky and trickiness breeds quirks.
And not everyone can understand quirks the way we do.
So we bond.

And when we meet for coffee or wine, the locales always vary.

This week, I picked her up and off we went.

To where?
We weren't sure.

We had some catching up to do.

She had had a photog adventure that revealed she had possibly been to Mars.

And I...had had drama.

Maybe it was the nightblooming jasmine or maybe it was the warm summer air (before we got this much-needed fall-like rain), but on a whim, I drove us to the Chateau Marmont.

I envisioned us sitting out in the garden. Amidst the tiki-torches and the floral sweetness of flowers or wealthy perfumed men and women.

We entered.
Due to us not having a reservation, it looked unlikely we would be sitting out in the night air.

Maybe it was Reb giving them her sweetest voice and politeness or maybe they thought we were exactly the kind of people that should take their last outdoor table that wasn't reserved, but whatever it was, in seconds, we were seated along the colonnade.

And it was exactly as I had pictured it.

I felt rich.
And happy.
And calm.
And loved.

And for the first time in a recent while, I felt like me again.

Which was apparent when the bill came, because feeling like me again, meant that my math skills were off. Add some wine to the mix and well, I was useless.

Poor Reb. Thank god she is a smart one.

We left the Chateau with the energy of artists who are on the cusp of creative revolution.

After I dropped her off, and turned down Vermont towards my place, I could still smell the jasmine in the air.

And that smell ALWAYS indicates to me that good times are about unleash their bounty on me.

My arms are open.
And I am ready.

In this economy, it appears the Art Walks around town have increased in popularity.
Perhaps it's because it's free.
Or maybe it's because it's good people watching.

In any case, I have been going to a lot of them lately.

Last weekend, Mads and I planned to go to the Miracle Mile Art Walk. If we could have found parking near the Page Museum/La Brea Tar Pits, we would have stopped since I have been wanting to go back there having last stepped foot there in the 1970's when I remember somersaulting down the hill.
I didn't want to recreate the somersault, but since the Art Walk made the museums along Wilshire free, I thought it would be fun to see all the pre-historic animals stuck in tar.
We didn't, however, find parking so we hauled our artsy selves towards Culver City for yet another Art Walk.

This one was stretched out in a comfortable fashion.

Good people watching and pop up bands in parking lots.



We dallied where there was music.

And we followed crowds into little doors.

As an avid people watcher, I sought out good subjects to focus on.
There was one man, in particular, who caught my eye.

He looked homeless in his suit and flip flops sporting a mountain man beard.

He was handsome but also looked crazy.

Was he homeless?
I tried to snap a photo.

I first saw him on a bridge. He was just staring blankly at the empty river below us.



I couldn't take his pic without being noticed so I forewent the impulse.

But as we art walked, he ended up in several galleries with us.

He was with a woman who looked very hip.

Hmmm...probably not homeless.

Then, a family with a tweenage daughter on a scooter started to embrace him.

"I don't think he is homeless," I said to Mads.
"Maybe they are all homeless," she said giggling.

The man spoke.
He had an accent.

He seemed kind of revered.

I tried to snap his shot again in the gallery.

I missed. But I did get a shot of his beard and the scooter-riding tween.



And as my camera clicked, I realized who he was.

Viggo Mortensen.
Yes, I was mistaking the Blouse Man and Aragorn for a homeless man.

Now I really wanted to get his photo.

But somehow, after that moment, he seemed to disappear from following us into any more galleries.

Pity.

Mads and I walked by a window display of a second hand store.
There was a "Goldfinger" movie poster on the wall.
The song started to weave its way into my brain.
I belted out the only lyric I knew which was "GOLD FINGA"
And as I was about to do it for the 8th time in a row, I sang, "GOLD-" and stopped.
I spotted a man who was approaching us.
He had one hand that was normal and the other hand only had two fingers on it. Like the others had been mangled in an accident.

I don't know if he noticed this but he may have noticed Mads who is not one to sing or belt out lyrics. But she somehow chose that moment to fill in where I left off, "FINGA" she sang.

I couldn't help laughing and telling her as we passed him.

Our laughter, if he could hear it, probably made him nervous like we were laughing at him.
We are probably still going to hell, since that wasn't our intention.
But you know what the road is paved with...

On a futile search for free wine, we went to Royal/T.



The waitresses look like french maids and the Japanese art and kitsch factor drew the crowds.

The free wine wouldn't be available for awhile so we perused the shops and partook of the art around us.










After the fun of that ran its course, and seeing as how we were parched for some liquor, we wandered on over to the Culver Hotel.

Apparently, the actors playing the Muchkins stayed there during filming of "The Wizard of Oz".

It was pretty cool in there.



Mads grabbed my camera and snapped several shots of me



And I did of her.
And we came to the conclusion that we both think we look weird in photos (which is why, out of respect to her AND because of the cease and desist letter I got from her, I haven't posted any of those shots of her here).

There was a man waiting by himself at a table.
We watched waiting to see if he was there for an internet date.
We didn't see her arrive, but we did see her behavior shortly after sitting down.

She looked bored.



I have met women like her. Beautiful but lacking in something to say.

She seemed annoyed by him but was giving him weird come-hither looks (which seemed to be her way of coming off as interesting - "eye acting" I like to call it).

But as they sat there, while her wine glass's contents dwindled, her demeanor towards him softened.



And he finally made her laugh.



And just like the social anthropologists we are, Mads and I felt our study of "The Date" had garnered enough information for us to call it complete.

We finished our drinks and headed towards our next adventure on Fairfax.

People watching was free and we had become experts at it.

The night was ours.

Things I learned this week:

I can stress eat and stress drink and NOT gain weight if I balance it with running circles in my head and saying "Fuck" really loudly at work.

When you spend the night at a friend's house mid-week and you bring a change of clothes and your hair products, your walk to the car in the morning looks very different than the walk of shame.

Tarantulas are not deadly even though I still got the points in Scattegories saying they were.

My dad thinks Twitter is called "Tweeter" and when I corrected him, he did not notice/hear/care that there was a difference in what I was saying.

Leigh calls her girly bits "Tweeter".

Leigh's daughter Aubber (not yet two years old) calls her girly bits "betty" because Leigh's huband called it that once to her.

My sister is afraid that I will put a profile on Facebook for her if she doesn't do it soon.
And you know what? She should be afraid. Cuz I totally will.

When I am depressed, I use longer words than when I am happy.

I found 3 new bands to love and one of my faves is starting a residency at Spaceland in June.

Chocolate is not love but it is like a one night stand. You enjoy it and think things will be better than they are when you are through.

Mostly, I learned I need to do something drastic to change my life when I recognize my plight in one of the characters on The Hills and I don't find that scary. Or pathetic.

After a little spell of the blues which didn't last TOO long, I am resurfacing.
Slowly, tentatively. Still raw from where I came from.
But just like the retro moment back to January when I went through this before, I am finding myself busy busy busy with the lovely offerings LA puts out as diversions.

First, I want to say thank you to my camera. For allowing me to be distracted by visuals that are both disturbing, stunning, funny and quizzical. But most of all, they inspire me to click click click and feel like I am gaining fans and appreciators and above all, clients.

I also want to say thank you to my dance training which gets the body moving whenever I hear music and thank you for the summer heat begging for skin which only heightens the need for dance to shake off the weight that the blues can produce. Although I am pretty fortunate that my appetite wasn't heavily affected by this bout, I still always view my weight like playing the slot machine. You never know when Lady Luck or Lady Metabolism will decide to resurface.

I want to give a shout out to the words and stories that allow me to be prolific in my endeavors to be literary.

Mostly, I want to thank the people around me who have given me some respite from myself.

Some highlights:
7 year old Jeffrey (my friend's nephew) assuming that the manure which was wafting in from the neighbor's yard was some kind of smell I was producing in the bathroom. He was so sure, in fact, that he announced it to the BBQ of people who sat around eyeing me sympathetically but also secretly wondering if he was indeed correct (he was not!!)

The department changes which are occurring at work are providing me and my co-workers lots of dramatic stories to gossip about. The characters we lovingly refer to as "nut jobs" allow me to feel a little worse (because I have actual contact with them) and a little better (because I feel superior) about my life. Laydee, my good work friend and I had a wine-induced pow-wow last night, to the dismay of her hubby who had to listen to us going on ad nauseum about people he doesn't know. I felt much better today even though I still feel like I work in a David Sedaris novel.

In addition to the experiences that remind me that this is all one big cosmic joke, I must remember that I shouldn't take things soooo seriously. I am a funny gal for frick's sake.

June is going to rock.
And you will be amazed at how I rock with it.
Join along if you dare, but this will not be for the fainthearted.

You have been challenged.

"Trouble with dreams is they don't come true
And when they do they can't catch up to you"

Those are the lyrics from an Eels song.

And I have been thinking a lot about that concept.

I am a dreamer.
I live in a very strange place in my head.
Sometimes it is a nice place to be. A warm and fuzzy sanctuary I can retreat to.
But many times, it gets me into trouble.

I envision people grander than they are; more compassionate and more like they are characters in the movie in my mind.

Where everyone is happy.

And where sunsets are more colorful.
That is saying a lot about my imagination. Especially when I live in LA, where the sunsets are already pretty fucking unbelievable.

And where I always am the hero with a happy ending.

"You don't need a thing from me
But i need something big from you
'cause you know i've got
An awful lot of big dreams"

People. That is where the dreams go haywire.
Friendships have been caught in the crossfire of reality and fantasy.
But my friendships are in a pretty good place right now.
Maybe because I finally got real about things awhile ago.
And saw people for what they really were.

Men. That is another story.
Somehow I can't get cynical. And I should.
Get cynical.
Or real.
Because the dream life I live in doesn't provide a manual on how to handle myself when the dreams don't come true.
Or how to handle the truth when I peek behind the Wizard's curtain.
I peek.
I see.
And somehow, unlike Dorothy, I still believe the illusion.
Until a freaking flying monkey hits me on the head.

"I'm walking down a lonely road
Clear to me now but i was never told
Trouble with dreams is you never know
When to hold on and when to let go"

I stand in the mirror and look at myself and wonder
what it will take to fully emerge from my headspace.
What it will take to see things as they are, even as they stand there showing me clearly how they really are.

I have my friends, supporting me.
Telling me all the things people who love you tell you when they see you are lost.
And I am lost.
I am still optimistic.
But I wonder if my optimism isn't just an addiction.
For something I will never have.
A longing for a dream that won't come true.
At least not until I wake up.

And right now that seems to be one of the biggest challenges for me.
Maybe I should try setting the alarm to see if that helps.

"This is the life that i must lead now
Crossing fingers and wiping brow
Trouble with dreams is you can't pretend
Something with no beginning has an end"

Suspect choices.
Those are the kind I make when it comes to certain things.
Like men.

Oy gevalt, the tale of woe could go on.

But as I said to my therapist, "I like a good story."
She didn't believe me.
She thought it was a coping mechanism for me to say something like that.
Maybe she is right.
Or maybe I DO like a good story.

Do both options exclude the other?
Can't they live in harmony?

Harmony might be too much.
Simultaneously is perhaps what I shoot for.

Therapists.
Coping mechanisms.
Self-delusion.

I am just trying to figure out how to live the adventure without the consequences that usually result in tears, upset stomachs and weepy cliff notes to friends.

*sigh*

If you figure it out, let me know.

In the mean time, while my dating life is under investigation by my third eye, I have been busy.

Met up with Reb for some (previously mentioned weepy) catch-up.
She has been writing a blue streak. What a prolific genius she is. 90 pages in one night on her script!!! And a good script it is too.

I got inspired.

Also talked to Ruby from the RFO and she filled me in on how much she has done with the band in such a short time. I marveled.

This weekend, it's back to the manifesting creative endeavors for me.

KABoss and her family were the perfect way for me to do that, being absolute awesome models for me in a spontaneous photo shoot.

My vanity's hit started to recover.

My Neighbor Lisa's birthday is this weekend. She wanted to see Freeland (DJ Adam Freeland's band) at the Echo last night.

So looking dolled up and ready to dance, we headed to Echo Park to get margaritas and start our weekend.

Once we were perfectly buzzed, we hoofed it towards the Echo and walked by a bookstore/coffee place. We had to double take when we noticed through the window, Lisa's friend Daniel sitting amidst women knitting.
We poked our heads inside, "Daniel? Is that you? Knitting?"
Without a thought this is unusual, he looked up and was like, "hey, yeah, I knit."

The group of knitters were very nice and were working on some cool projects.
And just as spontaneously as we saw the tableau, we departed.

As we continued to make our way, we noticed a window display that made us laugh. We weren't sure if was the margaritas or the horrific wigs and outfits the mannequins were sporting that made us delight so, but we were enjoying it.

As we were doubled over in laughter, some friends of Lisa's who are journalists and were also covering Freeland walked up to us. Now as a gang of four, we headed to the show. Ryan, the music editor, and I talked about the characters we meet downtown and about people who poop on the street. Which led to more stories from all of us of similar stories we had either witnessed or heard. Thank god the stories are rare. Or maybe that is what I need to tell myself so I don't start to worry I am walking in a toilet as I flit about town.

The show, although not really my kind of music, was good. The drummer was amazing and the lead singer rocked the packed fan-filled place. And of course, Adam had amazing energy and stage presence. Several burner chicks finagled their way in front of Lisa and me. We looked at each other and growled our discontent. In their furry boots and head dresses and short shorts, they figured they could dance their way into getting what they wanted, which was to be right in front of the stage in Adam's eyeline.
And they did just that.
But we didn't have to like it.
Which we didn't.

But everyone was dancing and you couldn't help but get swept away.

After the show, we were now a gang of 6 (journalists...they have a way of finding one another in a venue), I headed to the restroom and full on slammed into a guy. I turned to say, "sorry" and then turned to keep walking. At which point, it dawned on me that it was my friend Shok. As I turned to say hi, he was doing the same thing to me but we nearly may-poled around his friend almost missing each other.
We laughed and he said, "it was great literally bumping into you."

He will be DJing in a few weeks. Lisa and I will have to check it out.

As we left the Echo in our group to head back to my car, we walked past Two Boots coffee shop and there was Mr. Freek one of our neighbors. We chatted for a moment and laughed at how small the world is. I had noticed his absence on facebook. He is taking a hiatus but he called it something else; something clever that I cannot remember.

I seem to be not remembering a lot lately.
That would be good if I could NOT REMEMBER some of my bad choices.

If I just keep hanging out with good friends, and having adventures that lead to "a good story" that don't involve any suspect behavior on my part (ie men men men), I might just ride out this storm and be able to tell my therapist I am growing.

Maybe this time she will believe me.

I have been golden for awhile.
Or at least I have felt it.

And then, with the speed of light, I felt silver, then bronze, then tarnished brass green.
Then, I was just a pile of colorless garbage.
Or at least I felt it.

But then, like a pendulum, color started to swing back slowly into my visage; into my skin and into my being.

Friday, I met Jazzy and Mads for guacamole and margaritas.
Mama C had just won a trip to Australia and Jazzy, being the one who would join her, was all smiles.
Mads and I clinked glasses with her and talked of how she would probably find a hot Aussie to fall in love with.
I could feel my sassy side coming out as the conversation turned to other items.
I chalked it up to the margarita coating my veins.
But in truth, it was a long overdue outlet.

Jazzy and I left to go to the Underground to see the sketch group "Dry Hump".
I laughed, which was the perfect way to end a week that had been fraught with high emotion.

Saturday was Reb's birthday party.
I was sort of out of my head during the day, but by the time I was heading towards party central, I was already back in place with myself.

Reb has some amazing friends and she and Toby are great hosts. Their place is one big photo-op as well so, I was able to be clickity photog McGee. And that always makes me happy.
Reb looked fantastic and made an amazing spread that just added another fabulous item to her already long list of things she is great at.

The whole gang was there: Zappy, her man, Mads, Jazzy, Louis, Tams and her man.
I also met some really cool new people who would later post things to my facebook that would make me laugh non-stop for a good 3 minutes.

Sunday, Mads invited me to be her plus 1 for the Venice Art Walk.
We couldn't tell if it was hot out or cold. But both being native So. Callies, we were prepared for both which actually ended up serving us well.

We walked through some of the art auction items and also partook of some of the house tours. The Eclectic Collector's home had a buzz about it so we headed there to ward off the crowds before they got wind.

It was a pretty odd home. It was punny and intresting and we both were over it at the same time so we headed to Guy Webster's studio.
THAT was the place I felt should have had a crowd. Decades full of amazing portraits and photos of iconic bands and celebrities. Several album covers that I pored over as a child, unaware that there had even been a photographer (or rather, that concept never entered my young mind), were right before my eyes in this guy's studio. I felt an odd sensation of nostalgia and something brand new. And I got itching to want to keep shutterbugging.

Monday, Namesake was back in town to join me for the Ruby Friedman Orchestra show at the Viper Room.
I have gone on and on about this band but seriously...it was an amazing show yet again.
Her voice trips and falls like a waterfall of fire. The other band members rocked behind her with their expertise and I swayed and boogied in place, not caring that this wasn't my living room. I tried stealthily to take photos and videos. Not sure if I succeeded. Or if it mattered if they (whoever "they" are) would have caught me, but it was an exercise of something I love to do while listening to something I love. Oh yes, I was multi-tasking joy.

I was glad Namesake was my concert buddy. She is such an amazing confidante, support and spirit and even as she stood there, I began to miss her knowing that she is moving permanently back up north. As I write this, she is already gone.
But now I will have a vacation spot in mind some time this summer.

With the exception of an unresolved argument, and the earthquake which rattled me, the weekend reignited my faith that I was golden.
Or at least gold plated.
Solid gold plated, if you please.
Which feels pretty much like the real thing if you don't look too closely.

Despite a crappy week full of icky energy, I was looking forward to the downtown Art Walk with PM.
We met at her mansion and headed to Bottega Louis's for dinner.
While catching up from our simultaneous but still never-seeing-eachother Coachella adventures and the dating lifestyles we each keep (the passive-aggressive text from Monsieur, the flakiness of a few other men I know, my latest date with a teacher/therapist who taught me the origin of lullaby), we ate delicious pizza and salad.

A crowd let out a roar and it reminded PM that the Lakers were playing. Her face only darkened for a moment. She had already passed up plans that were to her career advantage on a new gig so I knew that she was ready to walk to the art row with me.

We spotted our favorite weird couple that we see at every art thingy.
We didn't spot Blame Andy guy from Blameandy.com (I guess PM ran into him at a show and he proceeded to tell her all the drugs he takes) which was fine.
We met up with her friend Monk and his friends Chad and Jack.

PM and I really dig photography and were really drawn to those particular exhibits.
So inspired in fact, that we are planning an exhibit of our own photography.
We both lit up at the prospect and suddenly, I felt not so much like a walker of art walk, but a potential artist of art walk.

Ran into Mr. Blondie who was headed to the Regent to check out Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros (whom I can imagine are great live). The Regent had amazing photography lining the entry hall of the space that Little Radio has taken over.

PM ran into Porn Star (I forget his name) that we ALWAYS see. Afterwards, she said, "it wouldn't have been Art Walk if I wouldn't have seen him."
I think I agree.
It's nice going and seeing the familiar yet strange (as in "not normal" and as in "we don't actually know them") faces and performers.

As we walked by little jazz or samba bands, I strutted my stuff.
PM made fun of me and said, "someone is going to grab you to dance if you keep that up."
I laughed and said that would be fine. When I hear music, I just can't sit still.

The boys walked us to our car, where PM and I decided that even though we still had energy to partake of the fabulous Garden Party in Skid Row, we might easily run out of steam when we got there.

We bid adieu to the boys and drove back through the dwindling crowds towards her mansion with grand ideas of our own show in our heads.

Another successful Artwalk was had by all...well at least by us.

Feeling bad makes you appreciate feeling good.
Without it, you wouldn't know the difference.
Which, is fine in theory.
But I don't need to know the bad as much anymore to know what good is.
I have had enough days of bad in my past to know that the way things have been going are pretty nice.
Yeah, I know that feeling confident, content, grateful and loved is quite the opposite from the ways I used to think where the world was against me, I was invisible and I felt fat 24/7 no matter how many classes of pilates and belly dancing I took.

I know that there is a difference.
And I know nothing is always going to be smooth sailing.
I am optimistic, not naive.
But still, I wasn't prepared when I faced a day like yesterday.
Yesterday was BAD!
Like a visit from an old relative you thought was dead.
Or at least was too disabled to come visit.

You never counted on the fact that this relative was stronger than ever with its feeble arms and walker.
That it could almost flatten you.
With all of what I know now, I should have been more mature and realize this is all temporary.
But instead, I fell into the old traps or reacting to it all.
Which leads to more bad feelings and tummy aches.
Old triggers let loose old emotions that created a wonderful downward spiral.

Ugh.

Yesterday truly sucked.

Too many people let me down. And I thought, it's one thing if it is one or two people.
But four or five...I looked around for a camera for sure I was being Punk'd.
How much Gandhi-patience can one girl have?
How much understanding that this will subside can I possess?

Crazy stress dreams about broken ATM cards, missed plane connections, hitchhiking from Burbank to LAX and rabid dogs kept me from looking refreshed this morning even though I got plenty of sleep.

And just when I thought about taking up drinking, the relative left.
Just as soon as he had come.

Which reminded me of how good I have it in general.

And that Uncle Grumpy should be on his last legs pretty soon so...

Feeling good can go back to feeling great.

And even though I don't need to anymore, I will totally drink to that!

The heat tonight is starting to become overwhelming.
As I drove home this evening, I was actually singing the weather's praises.
I told my building manager that even though this is fire season, that the wind and the smell in the air invigorates me.
And then as I sat in my apartment, putting the retouching tweaks to the piece I am reading tomorrow for Pinata, the air got hotter.

Or maybe it was my writing.
Trying to conjure up "mom stories" that allow people to join me in laughter rather than in pity, started to make me sweat.

Or the realization that procrastination has run its course and now is go-time.
Or fatigue.

My week has been quite a bit of a ride.

Saw Monsieur for a date and came to the realization that he and I probably operate from different levels.
It's not as much fun for the gal when she realizes that the guy is totally content to see her every few weeks.
The beginning should feel a little more like a pursuit.
I am running in the chase but when I turn around, Monsieur is waving from the couch.
No pursuit at all.
And you realize as the girl, that you could have been running a long time in that direction by yourself if you hadn't turned around and figured it out.
No hard feelings. He is very funny, handsome, smart and cool, just the way I like them.
So that means I am heading in the right direction.
At least I got the tank top back I had left there from the last date.
I really loved that tank top too so it is all good.

Another night, Mr. Blondie took me out to the Echo Curio in Echo Park where we watched some bands.
We got there early, talked to the drummer from the Monolators, who were having their cd release party a bit later. The music wouldn't start for awhile, so we walked up and down Sunset and marveled at some of the things you only see when you finally foot it rather than drive down that stretch.
Like a random Billie Jean King brass sidewalk plate in the middle of the pavement.
It made me laugh.
It's great to honor her.
But why there?
And why Billie Jean King and no one else?

Or how the neon roof sign on House of Spirits has a neon wine goblet that rivals the size of the neon house that has neon smoke puffing out of it that beckons those with a thirst into its doors. Because as we all know, neon is the siren call for thirsty people.

Later at the Echo Curio, I realized the skirt I sported might not have been the best choice for sitting on the floor. I was loathe to give a peep show so I daintily tried to sit like a lady. A hip lady who was totally comfortable in her outfit. Try is the operative word there.
I don't think success was achieved but it doesn't really matter since I was in a room that had one back up dancer taking off her top to show her skimpy bra while on stage for the performer Gumshoe. I was also in the company of some injured band members from the Monolators: a bass player with a foot cast and a keyboard player with bandaged fingers from a kitchen accident. No one was paying attention to my squirming ladylike behavior.
Walking back to the car, Mr. Blondie and I took in the sight of Echo Lake while discussing music. As we watched the fountain shoot up in the sky with Downtown as its backdrop, I thought...this is a pretty great night.

Cinco de Mayo brought a catch-up call from Jazzy about her Vegas adventures and an invitation from Ruby Friedman to join her and her friends at Room 5 to see Elizaveta sing (very pretty voice, mellow tunes and a Regina Spectorish quality).
I sat next to a guy at the bar who kept calling his head fat and his ass fat. When he asked me what I thought he said about him that he kept referring to himself as fat (which he wasn't), I told him he had body issues.
"What does it say about me then, that I ordered the Mac'n'Cheese?"
"That you don't really care that you have body issues," I said.
We both laughed.

Room 5 is where I did my first comedic essay reading so long ago.
It brought back a lot of feelings for me of how nervous I was. I actually am always nervous to perform but that particular night, I was almost shaking. Until I hit the stage. And that performance was up there with one of my best.

When Elizaveta finished her set, I briefly joined Ruby and her friends at their table before heading home to try and get some writing in and a phone conversation with EK, who was waiting on the east coast to catch up with me.

And now I sit, in my hot apartment.
No longer relishing the smell outside of BBQ or cigarette smoke from Angry Smoking Man.
The fans whir and my fingers type.
I finally find an ending that I hope is worthy of my friends who will be coming out to see me perform tomorrow.

And suddenly, the temperature isn't so unbearable any more.
Maybe the heat WAS all in my head (she said wiping her damp brow).
Maybe not.

Where did it go?

Where did the past week disappear to?

I was just getting used to it and then, just like that...it was gone!

And what a week full of reunions and politics it was too.

Some laughs, some drama, some tears, some income, some outgo, some sleep deprivation, some drinks, more drinks and some Tums.

The week began with the whole car faldera which was a roller coaster ride in itself but ended with me skipping down the halls at work and smiling ear to ear.

I met up with Zappy, Reb, Tams and Jazzy at 8oz on Melrose for dinner. While there, JW and her friend showed up and we all gave a round of hugs and enjoyed the brief reunion.

I also enjoyed after-dinner cocktails this week with KABoss and a few other co-workers where we unleashed some pent up aggression towards the unlikely but still reality-based and unfair release of Namesake from her job. I will miss that girl. Hopefully, she will return for us to go to the next Ruby Friedman Orchestra show at the Viper Room on May 18th.
Namesake will be fine since she is smart, resourceful and pretty much awesome, but the unjust nature of the whole witchhunt leaves us scratching our heads at how office politics operate.

And then a day later, Ange gets promoted (for an entirely different position with a different department) which raises our faith again that perhaps some things do work properly and hard work does sometimes get noticed.

And just when I am no longer thinking of Monsieur, I receive a text that he has returned from a long trip and wants to see me.
I thought the "long trip" excuse was his way of bowing out gracefully from seeing me anymore, and perhaps it was at the time but he soon realized that my shining personality was far too addictive to give up.
Or maybe the "long trip" was a blossoming relationship that didn't end up working out and now he was back to hang out with me and my shining personality.
Or maybe he really did go out of town. And was now ready to rekindle something with my shining personality.
Or maybe he is just lazy and my name popped into his head first for texting. Although K is in the middle of the alphabet. Maybe he is middle-of-the-alphabet lazy.
Dating politics can make a girl's head explode sometimes.

I am taking baby steps towards everything dating related.

That goes for the reconnecting with Mr. Blondie as well.
His voice mails have made me smile a lot this week. And when we hang out, he brings a lightness to my heart.
But as with Monsieur, the dating politics can get tricky for me, so I walk the line with my heart slightly bubblewrapped and, I proceed with caution and a smile.

Mads, Zappy and I hung out last night for some guacamole, delicious margaritas and chips chips chips.
We wanted to continue the party with drinks but as we were driving around trying to figure out another place to keep the adventure going, this was the conversation:
Me: "Are we losing our energy?"
Zappy: "I could go for some tea"
Mads: "I have been sick and am losing momentum"
Me: "We could go for some coffee and dessert"
Zappy and Mads: "Yeah that works."

So we ended up at Swingers.
And as we were in the middle of dessert and liquids, Tams and her boyfriend walk in.
And just as we are all huddled in our reunion, Jazzy walks in to start her shift.
Her jaw dropped open when she saw all of us.
My jaw dropped open when I saw her because I thought she was in Vegas.
Mads's jaw dropped open because not two hours before, Jazzy had actually told her she would be working that evening and Mads had totally forgotten.
We all laughed, paid our bill and drove ourselves back to our cars and then to our individual beds.

Today, I found I had the Midas touch with regard to sales.
Lots of fabulous purchases while I was on my way to get my hair did.

As I was leaving the salon swishing my hair back and forth like I was in a commercial, I received a call from Marica and we spent the rest of the day in an ad hoc adventure of more sales, more deals and delicious lunch by a fountain.

What a roller coaster this week was.
And it went by just as quickly as the drop you anticipate on the ride.

And like any good ride, you get in line to do it again.

But you hope that the line isn't as long as before and that this time, the good parts will last a little longer.

And as I type this, I think the analogy has fallen apart on itself.

But I think you get my point.

Crazy week. Went by fast.

And scene.

Today was a glorious spring day and I walked/shopped with co-worker Ange.

She is from England and has regaled me with stories of her teens when she went to raves and such.

Mads has recently laughed at the notion that I would like a rave since I am not really into that music. Nor am I into drugs.

But after Coachella, the vibe of group events where people are wandering around happy and infused with "stuff" while enjoying music and people watching, I seemed a bit enticed.

Mr. Blondie and I have been talking again.

He invited me out to the desert for a rave on Saturday night.

As the sun beamed down on me today at lunch and the smell of sweet flowers entered my nose, I told Ange all about it.

She smiled and said in her accent, "how lovely."

On Saturday night, Mr. Blondie and I headed out towards Mojave with lots of water, blankets and anticipation.

I didn't really know what to expect.

After a few squabbles about directions, we ended up going off the highway into what I like to call, a cactus maze.

At one point, we had fellow party goers following us.
"How does it feel to be the leader?", he asked me.
"Awesome," I replied with a confidence that would soon turn.
Because right after I said that, when I turned right per the directions, everyone behind us turned left.
Uh oh.

We retraced our tire marks and tried to regroup.
We felt our spirits soar again when saw a beautiful collection of rocks with a campfire and several campers. Music was playing and we parked our car near them.
We high-fived.
How beautiful it looked.
Until as we were ready to unload, a flashlight shines in Mr. Blondie's window.
"What are you likinG?" a heavy russian accent asked us.
"We are looking for the party."
"Oh this is not it. You must turn right."
Was he kidding?
What does that mean exactly in the maze of cacti?
Right?
Turn Right?
Yeah, will do.

He tried to guide us as best as he could and in my rear view mirror, I swear I saw them mutter something to each other like, "Yeah, right" while they laughed at how we would get lost.

We turned down another road and came upon two other guys on motorbikes.

Apparently, we were on military land!

"Where is the party?" I said sounding like the dumbest girl alive, since I needed to explain WHY I was driving on military land.
"Right where the lights are," he said pointing as if I were the dumbest girl alive.
Yeah okay, like there aren't OTHER lights going off in this maze.

But he was right. Right where he was pointing, we saw another car and we 180'd it and followed them.

Beauty.

They led us right to the rave.
We had reached it.

It was nothing like I expected.
But it was a lot of nice things I am glad I encountered.

The party was a memorial for an underground DJ who would plan these desert events.
Everyone had wonderful things to say about him and this was a party he had been planning for awhile before he died in December last year.
So in his honor, they kept the party and drank to him.

Mr. Blondie and I sat around the fire, under blankets and talked to the others doing the same.

People danced.
And someone handed Mr. Blondie a glowstick, which he handed to me.
I placed it on my head like a halo.

I offered wine to the ladies next to me.

At one point, one woman said, "I see my name in the stars."
I looked up and saw millions of stars above me.
But I didn't see my name.
The glowstick halo fell off my head and some nice man behind my chair placed it back on my crown. I felt like I was being inducted into the group.

Then the next woman said, "I see a vampire in the fire."

"What ARE you ladies drinking?" I asked laughing
"The same thing you are," they replied.
"Yeah, but I don't see my name in the sky, nor do I see a vampire in the fire."

And we all laughed.

At which point in the story, Ange said, "the missing ingredient that they had and which you didn't was E."
"ahhhhhhhhhh, I see," I laughed as I peered inside H&M's window.

Back in the desert, as the temperature dropped, Mr. Blondie and I headed towards the car and bundled ourselves in blankets and tried to sleep for a few hours with the "oontz oontz" music playing the whole night through.
Strangely, it was very meditative for sleeping. I fell hard into dreamland.

I woke up to see the dawn.
I also saw a man who was wearing a tank top dancing like it wasn't 30 degrees out.
It made me laugh.
The cactus maze didn't look soo scary in the morning.

We still had to find our way out but somehow it felt like it would be a lot easier.

And after a few wrong turns, it was.
Mr. Blondie was pretty impressive at getting us back on track.

We followed the people out in their SUV, who had partaken of my wine.

How we don't hear more about people dying on their way to or from raves, I just don't understand.

Ange said, "that is why you do those things when you are younger and not when you're your age. You just don't worry when you are young."
"It doesn't mean you won't die"
"True, but for some reason, you just don't."

I was pretty bushed when we got back to LA.

My car had run fine.

Until that night.

All the jostling around on craggy rocks and such had loosened something in my car.

With a pit in my stomach, I took the car to my mechanic the next morning.

He said that everything looked good but since it could be in the engine, I should take it to the dealership since it is still under warranty.

So I did.

Apparently, there were a few recalls and several broken parts to my car (that tend to occur in my car model, he said) that down the road would have cost me an arm and a leg or worse, been very dangerous if they were to unravel on me.
The thing that made the noise that caused me to bring it there in the first place (the only thing caused by the little adventure) was the most harmless of all.
Just a plate that was bent and hitting the rotor.
Making just enough noise for me to bring the car in and have everything repaired before things got really hairy.

They fixed everything!
All in one day!
And I paid nothing!

The little adventure had perhaps saved my car.
It now runs even newer AND the dealership washed it!

At lunch, standing in the sun, telling Ange the tale, I felt like it happened so long ago.

Mads is probably right. I am not necessarily a rave gal. But being out there in the clean desert night air with nice people next to a roaring fire surrounded by stars and loving stories about a man who really loved life, I felt that this is something I could do again.

Perhaps closer to home.
Perhaps without the cactus maze and my white knuckle hand position on the steering wheel.
Perhaps without the the run-in with the russian mafia campers or the military bikers.

But when I got back to my desk from lunch, I found the pair of gloves I had worn on Saturday night which I had accidentally left in my bag.
I could still smell the desert air and campfire on them.

And it made me smile.

Life is an adventure.

And I am glad that it keeps unfolding like that for me.

"Oontz Oontz Oontz"

It was unseasonably warm last night.
I left work, ran a few errands and was nearly home when for some strange reason, I turned my car up towards the Griffith Observatory.

I bet the view is fabulous tonight, I thought.

I don't know why I assumed I would be alone up there.
I guess there was a part of me that thought it would be closed.

I hadn't been up there at night in a long long while.

But I was not alone.

The parking lot was packed.

I ignored the "Lot Full" signs and drove right in and found someone pulling out just as I was pulling in.

So different from the last time I was up there during the day and almost got beaten up by a guy who snagged my space and then got angry when I called him on it.

But no such violence was present on this balmy evening.

I headed towards the gorgeous building I can usually see shining brightly from my house.

Tourists were everywhere snapping photos and talking in foreign tongues.

I didn't even have any plans. I just wanted to see the view.

And it was remarkable!

LA twinkled below me.

This is earthquake weather and I wondered if I would roll down the hill were the ground to start shaking.

My brother-in-law makes fun of me for thoughts like that.

I stood there in awe.
I could see all the way to the ocean.
Downtown shone and Century City glistened.
Nothing but lights all below me, as far as the eye could see.

I headed inside to see what I had been missing.

I saw a large group head for the elevators, so I followed them.

We all started to get in line.

"What are we in line for?" I asked the father and son in front of me.

"To look through the telescope. You can see Saturn very clearly tonight. This is the time of year to do it. It's only until May."

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh," I intelligently responded. I think I had given up sounding intelligent when I asked what I was standing in line for...while standing in line.

The warm wind was starting to get a little cooler as I stood queued up on the roof.

Apparently, you could see the rings pretty clearly as well as 4 of Saturn's moons.
Now I just HAD to see it. I suddenly felt a need to wikipedia stuff about our planets.

"My Very Educated Mother Just Served Us Nice Pickles", is the only thing that came to mind as I tried to note anything at all about my education from science classes. Apparently, I retain only what I learned in 2nd grade and nothing later.

The line moved slowly.

An employee of the Observatory made an announcement that visibility had been nearly awesome due to perfect conditions and then 5 minutes later, visibility had changed to some of the worst they had seen. So basically, they couldn't guarantee that our wait in line would be worth it.

As I got nearer to the door, it became clear that seeing Saturn was perhaps fraught with some problems. The telescope operator needed to move the behemoth machine another direction and change the lens or something like that.
I guess he was letting us see something else otherworldly since Saturn was not cooperating.
That is sooo like Saturn to be a primadonna like that.

This lens change would take another 10 minutes.

Even though I had gone up there with no intention other than to see the view, I now was mad that I possibly wouldn't get to see the ringed planet.

Another 10 minutes' wait to look at something else?

I wasn't interested anymore.

Which, looking back, seems a bit bratty and impulsive.

But, leave I did.

And as I walked on the lawn towards the parking lot, there was a smaller telescope with grand power that was being manned by another employee.

There were only 4 people in line in front of me.

"Is this aimed at Saturn," I asked.

"Yes," the woman answered. And then she proceeded to tell me how she and the other telescope operator worked several jobs together.

I imagined that she had a crush on him.
Or maybe they were having an affair.
She seemed rather interested when I told her that he had to change the lens and pointed the telescope away from Saturn.

While she was still chatting about him to me, it was my turn to look through the telescope.

Lo and behold! There it was: Saturn and its rings. And 4 of its moons.

Sitting very brightly in the sky just waiting for us to look at it.

I gasped.

"Wow! I see it! That is incredible" but no one was listening.

It didn't matter as I was filled with an excitement you get only from nature or experiencing something larger than yourself.

I stepped aside and let the others behind me take a gander.

I smiled all the way back to my car.

It seemed so close.

It's still two planets away and apparently, it takes 72 hours for light from Saturn to hit Earth. Or vice versa. Hey that is more than I knew before driving up there last night.

But it felt like I could reach out and grab it; like it was in my reach.

And then all I could think of was becoming School House Rock's Interplanet Janet and how she waves at the planets and they wave back to her.

"But somewhere out in space,
there's another shining face,
you might see some night up in the sky...
Interplanet Janet, she's a Galaxy Girl,
A Solar System Ms from a future world,
She travels like a rocket with her comet team,
There's never been a planet Janet hasn't seen"

I sang it all the way home.

What a way to enjoy Earth Day Eve.

Nine years ago, in an existence that seems light years away from who I am today, I met Mads.
And we worked together for Big Name Director and his lady.

And we joked that we were "Dungeon Girls" and would wistfully look out the window at people who did not appear to have the invisible chain to their desks as we did.

But looking back, it was pretty fun in many ways.
I met Mads.
It was a creative environment.
I got to know LA in a way that most people never get to.
I attended fabulous parties and got awesome swag.
And we met some of the coolest people.

Like Cherry Vanilla.

She is an actress/musician/poet/author who used to be part of the Warhol crowd and is just pretty cool all the way around.

She had a reading on Sunday at Book Soup with Dito Montiel (punk musician and author of the book turned film, "A Guide To Recognizing Your Saints").

I picked Mads up in the sweltering heat and off we zoomed to Sunset.

Cherry looked amazing.



The consummate hostess, she introduced us to several of her friends and gave each of us a little intro on each other.

Dito arrived and it felt like a party.



I turned around to see how many people had shown up after us and I noticed a very cute guy who looked like Ryan Gosling. Turns out...he looked like him, because it was Ryan Gosling.
Hummina Hummina that boy is caaayoooot!

Cherry kicked off the reading about her life.
It's pretty fucking amazing the experiences she has had.



Listening to Cherry read, I realized that this may not be quite the life she is living now but it sure is a ride to hear of her adventures. And for all the downs to her ups, she probably wouldn't give any of the experiences up.

It made me think about the things I do.
I am *trying* to be more balanced in my lifestyle and choices but sometimes, the best things to do are the most exciting, even if you know that heartache is around the corner.
Or maybe that is just how I am wired.
Or maybe it is dysfunction.
Me dysfunctional? Nah.

Dito followed her and read from his book and played guitar.

He evokes amazing emotions from his reading



and from his singing.



I felt a lump in my throat at some of his lyrics.

The day was a scorcher and we were all sweating in that little book store.
I watched my hand leave a moisture print outline on the shelf it was touching.

After the reading, Mads and I headed for some Mexican food.

Two margaritas each later, we had crazy plans for all our future creative endeavors.
Mads and I work well creatively together and we decided (even though we haven't told Evren yet) that we will produce and direct Evil Maria's next music video.

We had some grand plans for our photography. And writing projects.
I love drunk out-loud fantasizing. But hopefully, these ideas will become a reality soon.
I am pretty motivated of late.

And Mads gave me some good friendly advice about making sure I don't enjoy scenery on a dead-end road.

"But those dead-end road trips make the best stories"
"But I would like to see you have a happy ending" she said.

We toasted to that.

As I was driving her home, we passed by LACMA.

The Urban Lights exhibit is one of my favorite things to look at in LA.




I did a U-turn and made her pose for me.



After snapping several photos of ourselves (and each of us preferring to be the photographer rather than the model) I noticed it was getting late.
After my weekend recovery from Coachella, I was fading fast.

This year will mark 10 years that I have been back in LA.
I think the only time I have ever lived in a place longer was when I lived in LA while growing up.

10 years is a long time to realize many things about yourself.
The city, she is constant, but the lady, she changes.

And with a day of being reminded of the most beautiful things in LA, like friends, creativity, art and landmarks that I love, it is easy to feel good about those changes.

I feel very blessed.

The expectations were high.
My Neighbor Lisa and I are not the festival types.
But we like music.
And we loved the line-up for Coachella this year so we went against our natural instincts of avoiding crowds in the sun and decided it was worth the risk.
It was my birthday present from her.

On the way to pick up Jazzy, Lisa and I played the game of picking out people we noticed and guessing things about them. One thing in particular, actually.
"Do you think THEY are going to Coachella?"
"Yes, yes I do."
It wasn't a long game.
But it continued as we spotted more people with cut-off shorts, sun hats, sandals and big bags.

"Really, they could just be going to a friend's house. Or moving out of a boyfriend's house. Or going to the beach," Lisa suggested.

"Nope, they are going to Coachella," I would say to every suggestion.

With our lattes, Jazzy, some food for the road and our battle cry of "Woooooo", we rounded out our trifecta nicely and were on our way.

Once there, my crazy small bladder played the meanest of games on me.
The drive into the parking lot took a long time.
Just breathe, I kept telling myself.

But as we parked and Jazzy pointed to where we still had to walk to, I begged them to just cover me as I would squat.

They didn't.

"We are almost there," Jazzy said.
"Hmph," I snarled.
"Did you just grunt?" Jazzy asked incredulously.
Lisa laughed.
I grunted again a yes.

We found the outhouses and I was one happy lady.

Which was a good thing, since we still had a little walk ahead of us.



What we also didn't know was that it would take us an hour and a half of standing in the wrong line, to get in.

Ours was the worst line with only one person checking bags.
Every line next to us zoomed by with gloating smiles.
It was too late for us to move into any other lines once we figured out we were hosed.
"People who were leaving LA when we first got in line, are now inside," Jazzy quipped.
For feeling as sick as she did, she was throwing out the yuks like she was a Borscht Belt comic.
We took pictures of ourselves to make the time go by faster.





When we finally made it in, I felt a renewed energy.

Lisa knew exactly which tent she would be heading towards for the bulk of the day.



Jazzy and I parted with her.
While she got her boogie on, we grabbed lunch.



As We Are Scientists played on the main stage, I absorbed all the sights and the smells and the sounds.

The Do Lab camp made me smile



and Jazzy and I wandered through as people hosed us with misty water to keep us cool in the Indio sun.





Lucent Dossier was about to begin their performance and we paused briefly to watch it before heading over to see Airborne Toxic Event







It was all very very very cool.



The Ting Tings, M Ward, The Silversun Pickups, Conor Oberst playing behind me as Franz Ferdinand played to my right,



the beer garden





Leonard Friggin Cohen playing Hallelujah right at sunset.

And at 10pm, the headliner: Sir Paul McCartney!



It was like a dream.

He played for more than 2 hours!

He played some John Lennon songs and of course several Beatles and Wings tunes.
Everyone was singing along and you could see the emotion that each song had on various audience members as they rifled through their memories and took a spot with their nostalgia.

It was very magical.

As the show ended, I met up with Jazzy and Lisa at our designated meeting spot.

I didn't get the normal anxiety I normally would have trying to leave with thousands of others, while walking in mud and who knows what else that was squishy.

I was impatient, yes, but not anxious, which surprised me.

Jazzy, like a bloodhound, found my car. How she did, I will never know.
But she did.
And even though we were exhausted and still had an hour drive ahead of us to our luxurious motel in Beaumont, we let out our familiar but less enthusiastic battle cry of "Wooooo".

There is another story about our motel adventure with the clerk hitting on me and Jazzy and Lisa trying to guess what he was telling me from their vantage point in the car based on my facial expression. They thought I was doing impressions for him.

When I told the gals that I couldn't believe how the clerk kept talking to me at 3am since I looked exhausted, Jazzy said, "well, with your hair up, you have very awake hair, so he thought, you know...let's talk".

Or how Jazzy had Lisa and me in stitches the next morning as we deliriously packed our bags and headed to a Denny's.

Once back in LA, I slept long and hard. And it was good to have musical dreams.

I didn't think I was a festival person.

Turns out...I just might be.

I mean, gosh, if after a day in the heat and the sun with no make-up, eating greasy food and trying to keep reapplying sunscreen to my delicate skin, I can look like this:



Then I wanna do it all over again.
That there is a glow that I can never get from make-up.

Thanks for the awesome birthday present Lisa!