nun of my business

cute fam

hey.
it's me again.

i've been in la for the most part of my last few weeks. what's up with that? summer's coming to its end and i'm home again. this is probably the part where i share some stuff from my small ass dome (small dome, smart girl, don't. get it. twisted). 

ace's place is nowhere near furnished. for four nights, we slept on the floor. my back aches the way old age manifests itself into agony. (it's bearable [if you're a grizzly bear]). but her place is still cozy and didn't at all smell like ass hole, which i am entirely grateful for because that was my main concern. one of her friends fucked with my tape recorder though...that got me itchin' for a quick minute. i itched enough to mention it again now. nbd though, i swear. 

fyf was excellent. (as excellent as a festival could get since festivals blow for the most part). interpol, bruh. just. bruh. phoenix was also a cool time. we lost our granolas during earl. because bruh. bruh. and the strokes were average to subpar. average because the strokes aren't all that terrific live. subpar because they headlined the last day. but still, drool and i two-stepped for the entire thing because how else do you deal with below-average live performers with a fat fan base? (we were drunk boys at the festival). bummed that i didn't get to see slowdive. kinda bummed that we missed joyce manor because of the festivals inadequate accommodation. cool about little dragon, which i was surprised by. 

the weekend was mostly excellent because of our cute fam time. very cute fam during cute things like going to museums and having fat family lunches and taking cute pictures. what's with all the cute? we're gay as fuck for all this fam shit, but i mean, go fuck yourself, you know? we keep it in the family. undercover softs, passive-aggressive banter, sarcastic exclusivity, arrogant bastards, shit talk out the shit holes, mean appetites, etc. 

it's cool to have people that you can stand. 

oakland, oakland, oakland

Yeah, I fucking love Oakland.

period blood brothers

tatsu

My mom's babies.

My mouth was sunburned (still is).

Magic Mountain, there's a drought.

cute girl

I like back rubs. Reminds me of being little when my granma or my mom would be busy talking to someone on the phone (or in person) and I'd just be waiting around, listening. And when I get fussy and impatient, I crawl to them and they rub my back, or pat me, or draw circles to calm me down. And almost always, it drifts me to sleep. Like I have a puppy complex (I have a fuck ton of complexes). Anyway, Mak spent an hour on the phone last night and I got a little fussy, so I curled up to her and she did exactly what my granma/mom used to do. Yeah, I fell asleep. Yeah, I drooled on her leg. And yeah, I felt like Yung Baby Ange for the first time since I was yung baby ange. It was so reminiscent, in the most comforting sense, that I wished I was yung baby ange for a quick minute.

Oh well. Cute girl with the glasses aka my granma.

boudin

sux.

it suck.

While everyone was stimulated by casual conversation, I had to shield myself from the intrusive sun. I was the only one in the entire establishment who was getting hit directly in the eyes by the goddamn sun. So of course they took pictures of me, sulking. Artistically of course, because look at me. I'm a masterpiece.

And also, I remember liking the food. But that shit just suck this time around.

le clair stitch projet

I documented this trip on my tape recorder.

All I've ever wanted to be is a cute boy. But if I was a dude with a tiny dick, I'd rather walk through life as a gay ass girl. I can't emphasize that enough.

We saw some turkeys there, so inevitably, I spiraled down an abysmal panic. But I didn't eat shit, not even once. What an accomplishment.

i stay posted with bob ross

i'm tired and

this is it.

this is what i want to occupy my time with.

cheers to that time i tried to fight matt

remember when i drank an entire bottle of bourbon and tried to kill scorca? remember how he physically had to disarm me because i had a fucking knife? 

what a time to be alive (or dead really) (i prefer my friends dead)

tomorrow i'll be driving to la. nobody likes to pack. 

i'd like to confess that i'd been listening to michael cera's album true that. i mean, i'm fuckin into it. 

ps. my secret life is steadily thriving. 

pps. very excited for summer to pass, yes 

"I hate birthdays. Not just mine. Everyone's."

Lifewise.

I confess that every year, I still get surprised that we're still steadily getting on strong. It's not my lack of faith in our friendship. It's just miraculous nowadays to have someone no matter what bull shit comes around.

I take my loyalties very gravely. It's remarkable to know you take us as gravely as I do. Even better that I feel like an exception, considering you easily let everybody go. (Thank you for making my head swell and soften, demon).

We still barely take photos together. But it's kind of nice that way. Having to hunt us down like this.

PS. We constantly look dumb as fuck in photos together. Either one of us looks like an idiot, or both of us. Most of the time me, but I'm not trippin. Is this why we don't take pictures? 

hachi

This weekend was my frowning housewife's birthday.

What a babe.

god fucking damnit

i looked back on entries from three to four years ago and realized what a fool i'd been. why would i upload my pictures on tinypic? now it's all gone. very foolish girl. 

soup

this might be one of the most terribly awkward portions of my life. i can't even really comprehend what i'm laying on. an egg maybe? i just know i spend a lot of time waiting. i think that's what makes this portion so awkward. waiting is always awkward. i hate that word, awkward. even the spelling is odd. the K is sandwiched by two W's which are also sandwiched by two A's. Then given by a rushed R and D finale. pronounced aloud and my brain immediately uses the inflection of a stunted, idiot teenager. So considering all that, i'll instead describe this portion of my life as one of the most terribly stiff. 

fuck that, i digress. 

who makes you laugh the most? and not out of humor or any sort of sheer comedic brilliance. who makes you laugh the most out of plain personal joy and amusement? is it your lover? your favorite person? isn't it usually? i can't tell who makes me laugh the most. (apart from myself considering it's a concrete fact that i have never once fake-laughed myself). i keep thinking about this lately. maybe i'm afraid to acknowledge the answer. 

fuck that. i digress again. 

i'm completely out of sync with everyone right now. i spend so much time with myself that i can't seem to flow normally with anyone i spend time with. it's like that moment of suddenly being too aware of your hands and then struggling to decide what to do with them or where to put them. my relationships with people feel like that right now. it's stiff. 

fuck it. 

i'm going to wash my hands of these irritatingly mundane thoughts. 

pride daily parade

i don't ask questions

and i try carefully

not to raise my eyebrows


chipped shoulders

and an entire freezing torso


steady legs

buckled by bad knees

and weak ankles


feigned tight-lipped

like open-eyed dead girls

and it's fact

that dead girls can't inquire at all

six slashes and it's wrong

Yesterday I thought about those dead sunflowers that I never got to see. I think I would've liked them more. But it was so exact, everything that happened. To me, I was robbed of a moment I would've glorified in the gruesome way I'd always insisted. But otherwise, dead flowers simply weren't good enough to be seen by me. It was excusable to me as sweet, but I was disappointed either way. I was always so disappointed.

There are so many fucking things I refuse to talk about. It's terribly overwhelming in the long run.

tequila bar

We liked it because they didn't card my prepubescent sister. She was a crotchety elder before she had her first drink. I liked it because the ceviche was excellent and because I knocked over that goddamn outdoor heater behind me. I forgot that shots are expensive when you pay for them yourself. Few weeks of straight sobriety and I dove head first into a goddamn tequila bar. It was a good night, but I'm already tired.

The only hours I ever walk are six, seven, or eight. AM or PM, I don't care. I'm just trying to avoid the sun. I don't mean to under appreciate it, I just get so grouchy under that fucking heat. Also, my wardrobe no longer provides for summerwear. Everything I wear is too goddamn warm. I can't stand sweating when I don't insist it.

It's already August and I'm still steadily estivating. If I have tomatoes for lunch again today, I won't complain.

Yesterday as we sat outside waiting for our table, I watched some tall blonde standing by the street. She eventually walked away with her average-looking, wealthy boyfriend (or dad, maybe suitor?), but my mind was stunned by the envy of her length. Never before had I been brought sadness by my very typical height. In heels, she peeked at six feet, nearly towering her pal. And I stared on at her legs and her arms with a sickly burning in my chest and in my fists, cursing very quietly in my head. Is this how it feels to wish your dick was bigger? As much as I'd always wished to be a guy, I couldn't risk being the one with a small dick. My pride couldn't handle it. And if I did luck out and was endowed largely, my pride still wouldn't be able to handle it. In summation, I'd be a shitty fucking person if I was a dude.

There's a cool, constant breeze on my naked nape. I pet myself incessantly. I enjoy it.

Low tables are a joy.