5/31 1:58pm

Somewhere back on the west coast in the U.S. it's probably still Memorial Day but I have no idea anymore. I've been getting up around 6am running the 6 blocks down to get my family breakfast, then going back to sleep until a more godly hour. I also take lots of naps. I rationalize this by watching my 7-month pregnant aunt take 3-4 naps a day, and say that since I limit myself to two per day, it's not quite as shameful. I think I'm one of those people who take vacations that allow for laziness and lounging, rather than those who take vacations with manic itineraries.

I watched the final minute of the Suns/Spurs game. I'm sure there will be much said about the blown call at the end when Amare's block of Tim Duncan's dunk should have been a goaltending call. I don' t care though. It was pretty.

As for a half-assed trip recap, we left Friday evening and arrived late Saturday morning here. There are 8 of us sharing my grandmother's 3-bedroom condo--my cousin Bohr and his mom, my aunt Jodie and her husband, my mom, brother and I, and of course, my grandmother. At least there are 2 bathrooms and plenty of mirrors for all the women to get ready in the morning. We hit up a street market for a late dinner. The thing about Taiwan is that there are what feels like hundreds of street vendors in any given alley, all selling some form of fried food most likely containing processed fish product. But it's all fairly cheap, ranging from 50 cents U.S. to $2, so you can pretty much try 4-5 different things all for under the cost of an entree at a cheap diner. And you never have to tip.

The meat is so fresh that they pretty much slaughter the animal sometimes right in their little space, something that luckily, I have yet to witness. I did see a whole pig floating in the water when we went to visit this seaside market area (kind of like 3rd Street Promenade in Los Angeles); it must have fallen off one of the boat ferries. I couldn't stop staring because it was kind of sad to see this slaughtered pig floating in the water surrounded by random trash. Like it died for nothing. My mom requested that I not take a picture of it (as she had earlier in the day with the La Muff sign), because she doesn't like me portraying Asians in a bad way.

The second night we were here, my mom's oldest brother (aka my rich uncle) had this family reunion banquet. It wasn't so much a family reunion, as all the family members who happened to be here this week, and 25 of his friends. He had rented out the events room of a nice restaurant and had a man with a Casio running a karaoke machine. Whoever invented the dinner format of having karaoke going on as people try to eat should be shot. Whoever thinks that a respectable job description is "Man who runs a karaoke machine while backing up the music with one-fingered notes on a Casio keyboard" is someone who still lives in his parents' garage. It was mildly awful. The head of D-Link was there. I wanted to ask him for a job. The night ended with Bohr's mom up alone on the stage with the microphone saying, "Bohr! Do you want to come up here and sing You Are My Sunshine?....Bohr?.....Julia? You Are My Sunshine?..." I don't think the human language has an emphatic enough way of saying no in answer to questions like those.

Yesterday was the first day of the Computex show, which was why most of my family is out here. So they all left in the day and it was just me, my pregnant aunt, my brother and my grandmother left to nap away the day. I took Michael to the 12-story department store that's designed after the department stores in Japan. I lost my brother at one point and had to enact a floor to floor search. After searching each floor from top to bottom, I decided to take the elevator up to the top floor, which was where I had last seen him. The funny thing about the elevator was that there's a very graceful young woman in white gloves who ushers people into the elevator, and another inside who pushes the buttons. The funny thing was that whenever someone's floor came up, she would say in Chinese, "Forgive me, but this is the [3rd] floor." I've noticed that about the different service jobs. Rather than just announcing something, they always pre-empt it with, "Forgive me" or "I am deeply sorry," etc. Like, "I am deeply sorry, but here is your order of fried meat product." Maybe it's the way they say excuse me, just twisted by a severe translation. Regardless, it makes us sound like pushovers.

I have just bought a bunch of grapes that I thought cost the equivalent of $1.50US, but actually cost $7US. Damn my limited Chinese vocabulary. For 7 bucks, these things had better get me drunk or something.

I'm in Taiwan right now. No, it doesn't have to do with the dead hooker in my trunk. I ditched her in my neighbor's backyard weeks ago. I'm here for quality family time. I plan to spend my trip going to the gym for hours at a time, while binging on street-vendor food that would make a health-safety inspector commit suicide in frustration.

Yesterday we passed a cafe named, La Muff.

I took a picture of the sign for this blog. My mom said, You had better not post that on your website and portray Asians in a bad way. I said, I'm not the one who called my restaurant, La Muff.

more cowbell.

More Human Idiocy

One Of the Funniest Things I've Ever Seen

"Next time...we'll bring a bigger crane..."

I'd like to shake the shit out of him.

Help Me Help You




I'm going to write a video sketch called Cabana Boy Training School. You can just imagine the wackiness that will ensue. So if you have ideas for funny things to include, please let me know. I'm going to cast it, film it then post it so it behooves you to help.

That is all.

Hand-Scrawled Notes In New York (5/6/05)

5:50am

Battery on the DVD player ran out while watching Dogville. Interesting look to the movie. Fell asleep listening to KD Lang. Woke up to the airplane descending. Took at taxi to the hotel. Discussed basketball with the driver. Arrived at the hotel to encounter the least helpful front desk staff ever. I had arranged an early check-in but they screwed it up. Checked in my bag with a grumpy bellman. The restrooms weren’t even open. Wandered up Lexington listening to Chemical Brothers. Made eye contact with every person going the other way for six straight blocks. Wondered if I was breaking some kind of cardinal NY rule. Wondered if I could make it to either Washington Square or Central Park. Realized I was actually going south. Found Grand Central Station. Entered and looked around. Thought about how many people had wandered my exact steps who were no longer alive. How many people who had stepped through the doors for the first time and found the grand hall oddly familiar. Stood and looked at the map. Still couldn’t figure out exactly where I was. These maps need arrows. Retraced my steps, heading northbound now. Intent on finding a dinner to sit at. Itching to write in my notebook. Wondered if someday, someone will sell my notebooks on Ebay because I’m both famous and eccentric, and my notebooks will be advertised as a “Diary of a Madwoman—One of a Kind Collectible.” There are some crazy things in here. Stream of consciousness. Perhaps the secret of the universe scrawled in here when I wasn’t paying attention. God enjoys a good joke that makes him feel smarter than us. (I’m on the juice again, ma. I just can’t help myself). If I ever went missing, I want you to tell the cops: She was about five foot six. Medium black hair, muscular build that just never hits lean. Nice smile, slightly cagey. Liked her eggs over easy but always mistakenly ordered them sunny side up. Preferred English muffins over toast, but sourdough over wheat. Is not on a first name basis with her Lord and Savior, but God…we miss her already. Listened to sad songs when optimism felt cocky. Blushed when she said the word cocky outloud.

10am

I'm sitting on the B train on the way to the East Village across from two Chinese women. They're probably mother/daughter, around 80 and 65 respectively. They're wearing matching flowery silk ascots, the daughter in a green one to match her coat and the mother in a deep lavendar one to complement hers. I watch the mother extract two toothpicks from a plastic container and hand one to her daughter. She takes a container of plum preserves out of her purse and they spear dark, oily lumps out with the toothpicks and eat them while discussing the weather. This mundane scene brings tears to my eyes. I hope my mother lives forever, but she is a robot who can not understand these types of sentiments.

I follow the women when they get off the subway and find myself in Chinatown. I am momentarily basking in the feeling of being with my people until I realize they're not the most helpful when I'm asking for directions. I get lost in Chinatown as I always do when I go to New York. Leave a message for Brian in LA saying, "I'm lost in Chinatown, surrounded by Chinese people, and they're mean. " He calls back a few minutes later and mapquests me out of there.

5/15/ Recap

Played basketball in the morning. Was asked to join a pick-up 3-on-3 game. I must of had some boiling emotion deep inside of me that needed expression because I was focused on the court, just didn't give a fuck, driving down the lane and knocking into bodies for baskets underneath and crossing over into jump shots over people. I scored most of the team's points. I was on a rampage today, determined to express my emotions whether or not I got hurt.

Last night's experience of having dinner with old high school friends put the fire in me. It reminded me of the balance of the world, how many people look at you and hope that you fail, how many people will nail you in your place because you threaten them. And it reminded me that their fear has nothing to do with me. I will grow and become despite their desperate disapproval of me. They are taking out their fear of being mediocre on me.

Met up with Sareet, Lypstykgirl, Kate and Andrea at the Hollywood Fire Station (station 29? If it weren't so late, I'd look it up for you guys). It was LAFD Appreciation Day so we showed up for the tours and to browse the museum. Actually, we went because Sareet wanted to take a picture of Pig, her dalmation, on a fire truck. And I thought it would be funny to "get in some fireman's pants."

We arrived late so we missedthe pancake breakfast, but they were allowing us to tour the firehouse which we did until we found a fireman who was willing to assist us with our firehouse experience. We tried to get Pig up on the firetruck but she was feeling overwhelmed by the place so she didn't want to jump up on the truck. Regardless, we took pictures like Japanese tourists. Lypstykgirl asked if she could wear one of the jackets. The fireman asked if she wanted to wear the pants and she declined. Happily, I asked him if I could wear them. Mission accomplished--got in fireman's pants. He even let me wear his helmet. heh. There's all kinds of sexual metaphor there.

I was dying to know more about the fireman...who he was, what he experienced, how he perceived himself in relation to the world outside. I know we're always jokingly objectifying firemen, but in all truth, these people work in a very dangerous occupation which involves tragedy and risking their lives. I asked him about why he decided to become a firefighter and wanted to know how he kept things at work and didn't take the death, tragedy and human cruelty home with him. I wanted to know what keeps him awake at night. I asked him about how seeing horrible things affect him and he said that nothing really affects him. He sees a dead body but he still goes home, brushes his teeth and goes to bed. He did admit that the only time anything ever bothered him was this 21 year old girl who had gone missing.

You see, a year ago or so, a young aspiring actress went missing in LA. Her roommate said that the last time she talked to her, she was going on a photo shoot. It was all over the news for weeks. And when her body was found, those who still cared about people in this city felt a deep sadness.

So this fireman, Hurwitz, was saying that after the city searched for the girl for weeks, the station gets a body recovery call and he knew it must be her. They had found a body but they couldn't disturb the crime scene so they sent an aerial ladder down to get the coroner close to the site. This fireman had to go with her to make sure she didn't fall down or anything, so he was 10 feet away from the body. He said the girl was in her panties with her hands tied behind her back and it was just overwhelming how cruel people could be. He started talking about how seeing these things makes up who he is. He sees amazing human cruelty like mothers who pimp out their 9 year-old, and rape calls, which are the worst. He admits that seeing these things probably make him the way he is. Not that I'm cynical, he added self-consciously. But he is. He's lost his faith in mankind because he's seen the darkness we can be capable of, and you can read it so clearly in his body language and the way he expresses himself.

He had tattoos covering both of his forearms. I wish I had asked him what th symbolism of his tattoos were. This man was haunted. He's a brave soul who willfully goes deep into the places where demons exist. I want to know what the middle of the night feels like for this man, when all the world melts away and it's only him and the echo of his mind. What drives those people who continue to confront darkness. My guess is that there is a deep down optimism and desire to believe in mankind. And they go back because they hope that somewhere within the glimpses of evil, he finds some sign of God.

After the fire station, I got a haircut then rushed to Santa Monica to have dinner with Brian, his parents and his grandparents. They're all from Texas. I chatted up his grandparents on the entire ride over, and at the dinner table, I was dying to ask them how they met each other. Brian's grandmother said that his grandfather came back from the Navy and asked her out. When they got married, she was 14 years old. I asked how old he was, and she told me he was 5 years older than her. The best thing about the evening was when Brian's grandmother told me that she couldn't be offended by anything said at the dinner table and assured me that I could say whatever I want. So near the end of the meal, we were reveling them with Michael stories, the classic ones where he claims someone called him a motherfucker and then admits no one called him that...but they "could" have, and the one where Michael was watching South Park: The Movie, and then told Brian, "Suck my dick." It's so refreshing to be able to say "motherfucker" and "suck my dick" in front of grandparents. Definitely a defining moment in one's life.

Went to Arsenal afterwards. Mostly because we didn't want to deal with the velvet rope at the W. Motley crew as always. It's interesting; I was watching different guys' games...like the pussies that wanted girls to approach them, the guys who were salesman and approached every single girl until they found one with low enough self-esteem, and the nerdy guys who really, really wanted a girlfriend, but whose ideas of being suave revolved around looking like someone from Magnum P.I.

We decided we had to leave because it was becoming a freak show. As we headed out the door, I caught a guy on the dance floor doing the running man. Yes, it was time to leave.

When we got home, Brian looked over at me and jokingly said, "You go out to dinner with my grandparents and you couldn't even put on a bra." I started laughing and told him that the reason I was late in the first place was that I noticed that if I bent over, you could see a flash of my bra, so I was trying to figure if it was worse to reveal bra or to not wear one at all. "So you thought showing them titty was better than showing bra." I figure, if you show bra, it implies titty, versus just not wearing a bra so that it becomes all or nothing--they either think, she's not wearing a bra, or don't think about titties at all. But then it dawned on me, it's probably weird that I was so concerned with the state of my goods in relation to Brian's grandparents in the first place.

Stolen from M-squared and non-girlfriend:

My Uncle Once: Bet me $10 that he could beat me at H-O-R-S-E. Seeing as I was 9, I thought he would go easy on me but no, he kicked my ass. So he asked me if I wanted to play again and I said yes, thinking he would let me win this one so I could break even. But he kicked my ass again. He asked me if I wanted to go again for all or nothing and I said yes, thinking now he would let me win so that there wouldn't be money on the table. But he kicked my ass again. He asked me if I wanted to play again and I said no. He said, you owe me $30. I told him, I don't have $30, I'm 9. So he called my mom and told her that I lacked integrity.

Never in my life: Have I wanted to be president.

When I was five: My best friend Linus and I had a game called the Pants Down Game. We would jump up and down on my parents bed and flash each other. I moved away but 10 years later, he moved to my city and showed up at my high school. We talked to each other for the first time in 10 years and he asked me, "Remember the Pants Down Game?"

High School was: a little bitch. But to take some responsibility, if I were to do it again, I would do it a lot less angry and try to focus on the likeminded people who were accepting of me instead of stewing about the hypocrisy and hierarchy.

I will never forget: That meter maid who gave me a hug and comforted me instead of giving me a ticket on that day when I was very very sad.

I once met: a kid who talked just like Professor Frink from The Simpsons.

There's this girl I know who: Used to give me money and ask me to run across the street to buy her a soda because she was afraid to cross the street.

Once, at a bar: I saw someone projectile vomit. It looked just like it did on that Garbage Pail Kids card.

By noon I'm usually: Nodding off.

Last night: I slept alone.

Next time I go to church I: will wake up, find myself naked and pray that this is just a nightmare because Julia P S__ does not set foot in a church.

Terry Schiavo: People made it a public battle over their own beliefs when it really should have been about you.

When I turn my head left, I see: A wall.

When I turn my head right, I see: a file cabinet. Thanks for reminding me that I'm trapped at work.

You know I'm lying when: I look like I'm on the verge of either laughing or crying.

What I miss most about the eighties: When all that it took to make me happy was going to 7-Eleven and picking up Jolly Ranchers, Now & Laters, Bonkers and Bubblicious, going home with a mountain of candy and having spent less than three bucks.

If I was a character written by Shakespeare, I'd be: Puck. Though whenever I hear that name, I always think of that disgusting guy with poor hygiene on Real World: San Francisco.

By this time next year: I want to be shooting my movie!

A better name for me would be: golden-palace-dot-com

I have a hard time understanding: Anything spoken. I need subtitles for everything.

If I ever go back to school I'll: go to frat parties and be that old person standing by the keg flirting with people way too young for me, and whose inappropriate presence creeps the kids out. Except for the kids with low self-esteem because those I'll bag.

You know I like you if: I lick your eye. It's an ancient Chinese custom.

If I won an award, the first person I'd thank would be: No one. I would use my time to make an ill-informed politically-driven rant until they cued the music and had Charlize Theron escort me off the stage.

Darwin, Mozart, Slim Pickens, and Geraldine Ferraro: Names men give their penises.

Take my advice, never: Get up in the middle of the night and pee with the cover down.

My ideal breakfast is: Pumpkin pancakes with cantaloupe juice, coffee and two eggs over easy at 11am because I pulled an Office Space and decided that I don't like work so I'm just not going in anymore.

A love song I love, but do not have is: Ricky don't lose that numba...

If you visit my hometown, I suggest: You prepare to see hicks.

Tulips, character flaws, microchips, and track stars: The circumstances surrounding my loss of virginity.

Why won't anyone invent: Something that would allow women the convenience of peeing standing up?

If you spend the night at my house, don't: be surprised to wake up to find me spooning you.

I'd stop my wedding for: a passing ice cream truck

The world could do without: assholes

I'd rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: lick a part of it that excretes.

My favorite blonde is: Denzel Washington

Paper clips are more useful than: nothing. I use paper clips to pick the locks on diaries.

If I do anything well, it's: snoozing

The last time I was drunk, I: I've never been drunk. Only happy.

And, by the way: boys have penises and girls have vaginas.

This is a great article on the consciousness of fetuses. When I have a kid, I'm going to take the entire 9 months off and do meditative things to nurture the spiritual and emotional development of this baby. Lots of listening to music, energy work, reading outloud and envisioning of the immense power this human being will have to make positive changes in this universe. I only want one kid so I can focus on nurturing him/her and mentoring his/her development. I will try not to be overbearing and turn him/her gay.

I found this part of the article interesting:

Babies react with alarm to loud noises, car accidents, earthquakes, and even to their mother's watching terrifying scenes on television. They swallow less when they do not like the taste of amniotic fluid, and they stop their usual breathing movements when their mothers drink alcohol or smoke cigarettes.

In a documented report of work via ultrasound, a baby struck accidentally by a needle not only twisted away, but located the needle barrel and hit it repeatedly--surely an aggressive and angry behavior. Similarly, ultrasound experts have reported seeing twins hitting each other, while others have seen twins playing together, gently awakening one another, playing cheek-to-cheek, and and even kissing. Such scenes, some at only 20 weeks g.a., were never anticipated in developmental psychology. No one anticipated sociable behavior nor emotional behavior until months after a baby's birth.

We can see emotion expressed in crying and smiling long before 40 weeks, the usual time of birth. We see first smiles on the faces of premature infants who are dreaming. Smiles and pleasant looks, along with a variety of unhappy facial expressions, tell us dreams have pleasant or unpleasant contents to which babies are reacting. Mental activity is causing emotional activity. Audible crying has been reported by 23 weeks g.a. in cases of abortion, revealing that babies are experiencing very appropriate emotion by that time. Close to the time of birth, medical personnel have documented crying from within the womb, in association with obstetrical procedures which have allowed air to enter the space around the fetal larynx.

We saw the lead singer of this band whose CD release party we went to last week. He was with these two very LA-ish blond chicks. Reggie introduces me to him but he seems like the kind of guy who is self-involved and overly aware that he can make women worship him, so I say hello politely but continue to talk to someone else.

He left for a while but at some point, I noticed him standing next to our booth, facing me. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him looking at me out of the corner of his eye. He seemed to be carefully posturing himself in what he believed was his failproof "sexy" pose, and was trying to catch me checking him out. It was super egotistical. So I continued to ignore him and got into a really intense conversation with Reggie, until he left.

After a while, the two guys who were sitting across from us left. That singer guy came back and slid into our booth. Reggie asked him who were the girls he was with. One was his friend and he was just chatting with the other one. Reggie says that it looked like she was interested in him, and the guy says really off-hand, oh we've dated before..... sleazily implying that he's had her in the biblical sense.

I decide, I don't like this guy. He came over here to make a point that women lust after him. He thinks he's the shit when it comes to women, but he clearly has misogynistic tendencies with the way he interacts with women. I suspect he's sitting with us because he's curious about why I'm not checking him out and fawning. So I suddenly change directions, turning on the faucet of flirt. I give him my best, the deep gazes and appreciative laughs, the showing of intelligent interest in what he has to say, pointing out things in common, establishing a rapport, etc. Then just as quickly, I turn it off, suddenly getting very involved in sportscenter which is being broadcast on a large TV by the bar. Reggie's talking to him but the guy's not really listening. He seems irritated now. I look at him and think about what dysfunctional creatures we humans have the potential to become when we get everything we want too easily.

5/12 Recap

I've gotta make this quick and dirty since I need to get up in 4 1/2 hours. I feel like I've been running on so little sleep and such a creative high ever since the NY trip. Or maybe I've just been quietly tripping about these things and these are but my muffled screams.

I went to a play with Reggie that was about truth and following your impulses. He let me analyze the performances and point out the nuances of concentration and actors who are playing off the audience and losing their centers.

Afterwards, we went to my friend John's birthday party at Q's. Here's the thing. I randomly went onto Friendster on Tuesday, and that site's doing birthday notifications now. I saw that his birthday was "today." So I dropped him a quick line that just said happy birthday. He writes back that he's having a party on Thursday and sends me and evite. So even though I'm going to a play, I make a point of stopping by since I haven't seen those guys in 2 years.

I get there and Reggie's friends happen to be there. We explore the bar further and I find John and his crew playing pool. I see my friend Randy and I get happy. He and I used to work together and we used to hang out a lot after we both quit. He used to invite me out then kind of ignore me, so it was never clear if he was interested in me. He started dating this girl (the relationship went on to last 3 years) and he was eccentric with her, doing things like not even spending Valentine's Day with her and going to a concert with his friends instead, despite having been dating for a year. And he would still call me and invite me out, but sometimes I wouldn't come out because it was awkward and because sometimes he wasn't friendly, so I didn't understand what exactly our relationship was. I see him and I'm happy because I'm thinking, "friend I haven't seen in a while," but he says hi in a really unfriendly way then makes a big show of ignoring me. I'm like, what the hell, so I go say happy birthday to John. He's a very friendly guy. I have no interest in him whatsoever. So I'm just asking him where he's working now when out of nowhere, this girl pushes her way between us, sticks out her hand and says, "Hi. I'm Eva. John's girlfriend." Being always diplomatic and friendly as I am, I quash the recognition of her antagonism in my head and just introduce myself and ask about her. I'm a pretty friendly innocent person so she chilled out a little bit. But the vibe was messed up, and I could tell Reggie wasn't liking it either. It's kind of cute how protective he is of me. So we slip out of the room and go back to the booth his friends had saved us.

I have to admit though, this kind of hurt my feelings, which is a huge admission for me. And of all people, I was surprised that Randy could hurt my feelings, considering he's not that close to me and I don't really care enough for feelings to be hurt. But it hurt to be blindsighted by someone who you think is a friend and always had positive regard for, and I think just the circumstances of that was what tripped me up. His friend Paul told me as I slipped out of the room, that Randy's girlfriend broke up with him 6 weeks ago after three years so he's still pretty bummed about it. But to be honest, he didn't treat her that well and really took her for granted. So perhaps he's just being a huge dick and taking something weird out on me. Honestly, he can't ever say that I rejected him back in the day and he can't say that I was anything but nice and respectful of him. He was never clear about what he wanted and frankly, I found his moods to be incredibly inconsistent.

Regarding John's girlfriend, Reggie said later that the moment I hugged John, his girlfriend came storming over from across the room, made a big deal of keeping her body between his and mine and was looking me up and down like, "Who the fuck IS this bitch."

I haven't seen a catty display like that since junior high.

What a strange night.

I have been on such a people watching kick lately. I just want to watch people, analyze who they are, how they think, what their secrets are, and it fuels my creative process. It helps me grow and builds a better understanding of our inner wirings. I feel safe to people watch with Reggie since he makes sure that I don't get harassed.

5,000 People Starved Because of You...

I'm watching Spellbound and they're talking about one of the contestants, an Indian kid named Neil. They said that his grandfather in India payed for 1,000 people to pray around the clock for him to win the National Spelling Bee. And if Neil won, the grandfather would pay to feed 5,000 people. I'm just thinking, that's a lot of pressure to put on an 8th grader, who knows that if he fucks up, 5,000 starving people in a third world country don't eat.

By the way, that kid Harry is a kick. I've never seen anyone so spastic. When he talks in that "musical robot" voice, I just lost it.

Quote of the Day from Owen's Awesome Blog:

"Our enemies are innovative and resourceful, and so are we. They never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people, and neither do we."
-President George W. Bush

How Would Bill Gates Pole Dance?

Like many of you, I have oft pondered this question. How would Bill Gates perform a hot and juicy pole dance that would incite the ardor of both men and women alike?

Well, I have never had the privilege of witnessing Bill Gates getting his sexy on, but I did get a peek at what it must look like last night at the Arsenal.

A group of us went bowling for Reggie's birthday. Incidentally, I finally met his friend Jesse who told Reggie I was really fine. But finer than Tara Reid? I guess I'll never know.

I bowled a whopping 63 coming in dead last out of everyone, even despite Reggie bowling me a strike in the 4th frame because I was outside talking to people (though Jesse bowled me a 3 in the 5th frame so I guess it balances out). We headed to the Arsenal after the alley closed and that's where the fun began.

The Arsenal is a lowkey neighborhood bar where most of the time, people are sitting or standing around chatting. Not including our small party, there were about 40 people spread out within the three rooms of the space. The main bar is the center room and the door ways to the other rooms are framed by wide bannisters.

I was sitting on the couch in the lounge to the left of the main room, zoning out, when I see this Pillsbury Doughboy-ish white guy in a white button down shirt and khakis stand up and then start erotically dancing against the bannister like Liz Berkley from Showgirls, with amazing stripper grace and form. He does the deep backbend over the bannister, the drop to a squat and slow raise while rubbing his valuables against the wall, the high kick while tossing back his hair. There was even a velvet rope that had been looped into a 0 hanging from a clip on one of the walls. He grabbed the rope and used it the way a stripper would use a whip wrapped around a pole. He was so into it, it seemed obvious that he must be on ecstasy. Everyone in the bar was staring, jaws dropped. He would dance for a few minutes then slip back into his chair and act like nothing had happened, casually sipping his drink and looking bored. It was incredibly bizarre. Then he would suddenly start back up again.

This went on and off for about half an hour; some girls and I even ran into the main room to get a front row view. Everyone in the bar had cellphone cameras out, waiting for him to start up again. The moment he did, flashes were popping and he was doing his thing. He even noticed someone taking video of him from a cellphone, so he gets even more into it for that camera, making love to it. This goes on for a few minutes and people are crowded around him, merely a few feet away when all of a sudden, he stops and his eyes go wide, like he suddenly woke up from sleepwalking. He quickly says, "Oh my God!" and then runs into the other room.

The room was buzzing; it looked like he must have been in some kind of (drug enduced) trance and suddenly woke up. "Oh my God, he got embarrassed!" the girl next to me said. I felt horrified for him and his embarrassment at being in the moment and suddenly realizing that everyone was watching him. But the biggest surprise was that he hadn't run off because he had gotten embarrassed. He ran off to get props.

He re-entered the room, flamboyantly brandishing a large metal cup and a serving spoon, then proceeded to do this erotic ice-cream eating interpretive dance, though not forgetting to rub himself provocatively against the wall.

Afterwards, I was dying to talk to him; what he did was the most bizarre and fantastic thing I've ever seen in my life. There were some guys hounding him, but he could kind of tell they were making fun of him so he was backing away from them. I went up and he was relieved to talk to me instead. I told him his dancing was awesome. Then I switched into my interviewer mode.

Julia: What's your name?
Not So Private Dancer: James. My middle name is Webster so people call me Webb.
Julia: What's your last name?
James the Not So Private Dancer: Uh...I have a double name.
Julia: What inspired you to go back for props?
James TNSPD: Well, I saw the cameras go off and I got embarrassed. But then I was bored so I thought I would get something to switch things up.
Julia: Have you been drinking tonight?
James TNSPD: I've had a beer. I'm here with my brother. His friend had some artist thing tonight and then I got bored.
Julia: So that's all you've had tonight? Just a beer?
James TNSPD: Yes.

[Since he claims to not be under any sort of influence, I notice he has an accent. I think, maybe he's European and that would explain his odd behavior]

Julia: James, where are you from?
James TNSPD: Texas.

[So much for that theory]

Julia: What inspired you to start dancing in the first place?
James TNSPD: I was sitting there and really bored, and then I saw these two girls walk by with...[he pantomimes large balloons on his chest]...enhancements.
Snarky Guy Standing Next to Us: So you were inspired by large boobs?
James TNSPD: Yes.
Julia: Excellent.

Today is Reggie's birthday. Happy birthday, Reggie!

So after my semi-fictional NYC story, I happened to find that a certain character-based-on was connected to me on Friendster. What a small world!

A tell. They always have a tell. I have a feeling that a certain poker player friend of mine has a handle on every person he's ever met, but he's just not willing to show his hand and give up any of his secrets yet. But it's all there in his front pocket...'In Case of Emergency..."

You can predict a person by the behavioral harbingers of his emotions, the little tics and rituals that serve as an unconscious reveal of his intentions.

I don't know what to make of the events of tonight. I have never been here before. One would tell an actor that he or she has room to play within the character, as long as the stage presents itself as a safe environment. But what does acting have to do with living life? Maybe all things synonymous are more integrated than previously mathematically thought.

I just got back from NY late last night. It was a whirlwind trip that began with the red eye out of LA late Thursday night, and ended with my crashing into my little slice of spiritual heimat at 3am early this morning.

I had adventures. Things that make me say, hmmmm. And I haven't quite sorted everything out in my head yet. So soon to come as erratically as I create it, lots of jumbled thoughts, descriptions, hopes and fears...and secrets, always secrets, laid out bare for you to decipher, for your reading pleasure.

Sometimes I miss who I was and how I experienced life at different stages of my life.

It wasn't so much the music pounding through her and setting the rhythm of her heart, or the heat of the writhing bodies around her. It wasn't even the growing assurance of everyone attendant that the most delicate form of primal passion was just a thin lining of cloth and a snap decision away, needing only a simple surrender. It was the naked current that rushed through her entire being when the other woman reached out for her hand and clutched it to her heart. For a brief pocket in time, all sense of separation fell away, leaving only a fact of being, a connected oneness, and a sudden remembrance of how it feels to be whole again.

He was wearing a red & black headband with the number 23 emblazoned on the side, a strange accessory, she thought, for someone so straightforwardly pressed against her. She took him for underaged despite his success at battling for position inside this seething adult playground, searching like so many others for a much needed inhibition killer.

"Jordan or Lebron?" she asked, even though she knew the answer.

He smiled, lips parting to reveal an even row of smooth charm.

"My name's Larry," he offered, presuming her question to be an introduction.

"I think you're 18, Larry, not old enough to be in here." She is careful to control her demeanor as to reveal nothing, though her voice melts into that dangerously hypnotic timbre that can drown a weaker man.

"I'm 24 but I...I get that a lot." His bravado stumbles a step but makes a commendable midair recovery.

He wants to know about her, his questions tentative yet polite as though engaged in a two-way interview. But she does not see it that way. She does not see most things the same way. She sees him as articulate, though having not yet developed a crafty man's mask to hide an honest boy's straightforwardness, and it evokes something gnawingly tender in her, a faint memory of some faraway loss. She is suddenly troubled that she can't see his face--the room is dark, his face is dark around that little boy smile presenting possibility as a question mark, and her eyes have not been able to consistently separate color from form for hours.

She takes out her camera and without feeling a need for forewarning or permission, she snaps a picture, blinding him with the sudden explosion. She studies the captured image, his boyishness having nowhere to hide from an all too harsh light.

"You're high," she says, to which he sheepishly nods. She likes his transparency. She likes the way it tastes on her tongue. She likes the way he can smile at nothing in particular, just because he is happy.

He wants to see her. He wants to see how far the night can extend. He wants to hold on to whatever he believes is happening here tonight, because he is believing in magic the way a young boy believes in the magic of entire invisible universes in the darkness of a childhood bedroom. But when he leaves her for a split moment to retrieve his drink, the large Dominican who had been taking everything in leans over and whispers into her ear, "Whenever you're ready." He has danger in him, danger in his smooth caramel skin and in his light touch on her bare shoulder. Danger in his eyes and in his lips so close to her ear, in the long, crooked blunt tucked behind his own like another braid in his hair. She takes his rough, powerful hand and lets him lead her through the crowd, past the bouncer in black into the cool, biting night air that is eager to remind her that tonight, you make up your own rules.

But then again, she already knew that.

I've been staring at this painting for a long time. It's incredibly haunting and terrifying to me, but it reminds me of something that really disturbed me about the remake of Amityville, disturbing because it played upon something incredibly honest and powerful. When the people leave and the ghost of that little girl cries, it's haunting and sad, how lonely and ugly she feels, trapped in a dark world that people don't understand, that people are afraid of, and how rageful it makes her feel to be in her situation. I think mental illness is like that. Because they need so badly to be loved and understood, but it's like interacting with a ghost...there are two different planes being operated on. I believe it's the loneliness, that raining feeling that comes from the inside, that tinges the existences of those entrapped by the forces between where genius and madness meet.

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Read their stories as well. Amazing things. Abuse is a cycle that causes incredible to victims as well as affecting the communities around them. It's a vicious cycle that takes away a person's inner light and denies the people around them the full potential of what he or she has to give. It takes a lot of strength and courage to overcome abuse, and requires a great deal of compassion and nurturing from those whom the survivors encounter.

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wanted: kindred souls

do you feel a higher calling? a deeper failure running a fissure inside of you? find it hard to wake up in the mornings knowing what's already in store for you. think closer by nin is brilliant. are you hiding the primal side of yourself.can you see the colors of the universe blend together to form something tangible. hear the heartbeats of billions of souls around you. take constant naps.

i am lost in this world that feels so big. i fear the echo from speaking too loudly. I see the darkness as a reprieve. I feel the unknown as a tunnel that has no ending. The constant blackness swirled with silky red will sting your eyes. so i advise you not to look.

in my dream last night i heard a child crying. i rounded the dark corner of an alley to find a young girl half hidden in the shadows with a wounded leg. i approached her cautiously, my eyes adjusting to the darkness, only to find an alley cat gnawing at her calf. to be honest, the little girl was more curious about the situation, maybe a little anxious, than she was horrified. enraged, i scared the cat away, grabbing its neck and throwing it against a wall, my anger towards cruelty against innocence focused into a singleminded intent of breaking this cat into little unrecognizable pieces. it disappeared around the corner of the alley and when i turned around, the little girl had disappeared. i felt an immediate loss in my chest. that girl might have been someone who could have really understood me.

SAF, 26, in search of like minds. willing to travel.

Tonight, What I'm Calling a Good Time:

candlelit bedroom, downward spiral, trent reznor paralyzing my mind as i do freestyle yoga and smell fresh possibility in the cool night air.

End of the Workday Musings
(aka Desperate Attempts to Make the Clock Move Faster)

Have you ever had a nickname/handle for so long that you can't even remember where it came from? Why the hell am I jpchunderbutt?

I met with the producer of my short and he's now on board for my dark comedy feature as well. He was really excited about it, which is awesome because not only does he get it, but he sees its potential. The most important thing is to have people who are really excited about your project. Sometimes it just takes one person with enough connections to push things through. He thinks it can be shot comfortably with a budget of $3 million. I told him, that's a little bit above my credit card limit. We're going to be putting together a business plan and investor's packet soon. This whole thing is so exciting because I finally have a producer who knows how to do these things, has experience doing it, and really wants to see this happen. I'm really, really excited. (Blog Ho, I still owe you a copy of the script and $1. I haven't forgotten. They're coming when you least expect it...).

This Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise thing is both disgusting and ridiculous. I don't care how good-looking he was/is. He's so cheesy in real life that he's like that dorky uncle that everyone has. And then he's got his mouth pressed up to yours and you're like, what the hell is going on? You're my uncle! And you're old! And you smell like a wet vacuum bag! And then he acts like nothing happened when your mom and aunt get back from shopping at Target and you're not sure if you're supposed to be excited or disgusted at this little secret. Which is how I theoretically imagine what kissing an old cheesefart like Tom Cruise in public must feel like when you're a young, spritely girl who knows with each camera flash, that your credibility is going down the drain.

I am trying to get a 4-pack in time for summer. Brian greatly appreciates the now-common sight of me on the floor of my bedroom, lying down in my underwear, watching DVDs as I lift weights and do crunches.

Speaking of strange behavior, Brian thinks it's strange that when I come home for lunch and heat up spaghetti, that I take off my shirt and eat while just wearing my bra so as to not risk getting anything on my shirt. I also make spaghetti sauce shirtless, wearing an apron over my bra as to not soil any shirts (tomato stains can be hard to get out). I told him my habit has always been to strip down to my bra when I get home. It's the equivalent of a man loosening his tie when he gets home from work. In high school and junior high, the bus would drop me off at the bottom of our hill and I would have to walk a mile up a steep hill in sweltering California heat. I'd be sweating and feverish by the time I got to my front door so the first thing I always did was strip down to my underwear and stand in front of the fridge with the door open to cool off.

Clothes are overrated.

I'm leaving for NY tomorrow night. Rie gets married on Friday night and I'm supposed to read a poem at the wedding. I chose:

"Love one another but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other's cup but drink not of one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone, even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow." (Kahlil Gibran)

I love this quote:

"Night fell again. There was war to the south, but our sector was quiet. The battle was over. Our casualties were some thirteen thousand killed — thirteen thousand minds, memories, loves, sensations, worlds, universes — because the human mind is more a universe than the universe itself — and all for a few hundred yards of useless mud."
~ John Fowles (1926-)

I'm bored now. I'm going to put my head down and will away the time until I get to leave.

I luuuuurve Family Guy.

But I just read creator Seth McFarlane's bio on imdb, and it gave me chills. Holy crap.

Beyond Words

California Vanity? Sounds Redundant

I drove by a Lexus yesterday with the vanity plate: ADONIS

It made my soul gag.

Something to Get the Blood Boiling In the Morning

"A woman should say: "Have I made him happy? Is he satisfied? Does he love me more than he loved me before? Is he likely to go to bed with another woman?" If he does, then it's the wife's fault because she is not trying to make him happy."

~ Barbara Cartland (1901-) British novelist