i asked courtney if she still wanted to go somewhere kinda nice next week on her day off (mine too) and she said yes! she lives within south san jose so i'll do my very bestest to find an all-the-way decent place to take her but i offered to pick her up and drive her so she wouldn't have to commute. i'll ask if i could do that so she doesn't have to wriggle her way beyond her apartment. i'm really excited and happy, i'll dress very nice, maybe even a tie with a button-up, but almost all of my stress and concerns are captured in an orbit of wanting to be good and appealing enough for someone that special. she's naturally gorgeous, don't get me wrong, but she possesses a blossomed sorta comprehension of the world the way i color it and that's what magnetizes me toward her. she's something special and she's a kitty mommy; her two babbies are some of the cutest little goofballs i've ever drawn my eyes and she told me earlier tonight she had made sure to rescue that whole litter. i told her i love kitties and those who love them. i genuinely do.
emotionally and otherwise, i hadn't been anywhere near i needed to be to routinely bang out the number of pages i expected to work through my whatever, but upon finding my way to finally meet courtney earlier this week, i've become aglow and inspired to be creatively productive a way i wouldn't have found. i hadn't exercised so much lately, i've felt too fucked in every bad way, but here i am breathing life back into my routine to keep my abs and stuff better than before. they're still there, that's why i've been lazy enough to ignore it too often, although i stand and run around for hours straight during work having forgotten to eat anything before and after, but i become scared of losing them even a little bit. i want all my skinny pale boy definition. i only really just met her, i can't say i promised myself it will be anything more than i know in the moment, but she's a special sort of soul i hadn't figured i'd encounter since i lost my last love who lost me forever and ever. i didn't know there was a personification of girlish humanity left to inspire me. i had given up entirely; i may still but i would be happy if i kept courtney a friend at short distance. i'm a neptune paratrooper swallowed by the swarming storm. i want to be good enough for someone too good for me.
wish me luck. i want to be more than who i am.
believe it or not, tuesday afternoon, i made my merry way to a coffee date of sorts with a stunning sorta girl a whole day away from now. when we initially found each other, she invited me to a show @ DNA in the city a little while ago, but i happened to be overwhelmed beyond belief after a medical appointment, stressed and depressed by the news and anxiously bruised, and i felt abandoned and wary of commuting up the peninsula to find a stranger who could've stranded me upon any notice for all i knew... but it ended with her strutting against a spotlight a stunning sweetheart beyond any other soul. her adorably short stature (5'2" unfff...), she nonchalantly relates to depression the way most cherished by my being, impeccably dressed in seamless colors and cloth ripped apart in city girl symmetry, gucci handbag with carved bamboo handles kept aglow, sunny day purity sorta soul, sense of humor wonder, an appetite for a whimsical wander, a blue-eyed seraph sorta whole, and we caught the black magic blair witch squirrel's click-click curse on one particular west coast summertime knoll. chyeah man.
(she took that photo on her mobile and i simply shared it from social media and stole it - but i was sitting right there so whtv)
thursday afternoon, she caught me around 3ish when i was agonizing for having the mood and sensation elude me to bang out the pages i told myself i need to finish, and asked if i would be down to have sushi with her @ kenji on winchester boulevard at her hour lunch break. hella down; thankfully i just showered and barely styled my hair before she brought it up so i only had to change my shirt a time or two, fix myself up, and made my way a few miles away across the street from santana row. i didn't even know but she's a supervisor at gucci (fuck) she mentioned during our awkward sushi lunch which really impresses me... she's cool as fuck, bad bitch all the way, and deserves the world at its daybreak warmest. i'm left agonizing if i'm remotely good enough for someone like her. i want to believe i am and put my faith in someone i think has a real heart.
Well, it's official. I'm a satanic ham squirrel princess.
new job tomorrow @ surprisingly impressive spot in downtown campbell.
i'm INFP-T as fuck.
rena's darling bird, umi, passed away and departed early this morning, and it made me cry a little while i was smoking a cigarette as she told me around 10am (west coast time). rena has always loved, loved, and adored her little birds and she takes it out on herself when one of them passes away which is so unfair to her. she blames herself for not doing enough but i've known nobody else who could or would pour so emotionally into their pets the way she always has. rena deserves a lot of love, so much assurance, and i wish my essence of being could be filtered into a permanent pure atomic matter to be sewn against her soul to color her in a peach-hued warmth she deserves. please pray for her if you believe in prayer. send her your love in thoughts entwined in dream knots. she's a wonderful little soul so sensitive, so vulnerable to so much when she deserves so much more, and she lives within everydays scratching the hours of flesh for satisfaction sore. she's special.
"this was the track i should have always known and loved but couldn't until late. when it would have mattered. i possessed no artistry welling inside my viscera for so long while i was taking for granted the affection, romance, and emotional assurance i sought from my last ever love while she put up with me doing her very best to inject the heroin in any vein she could scour on my pale body. only toward the end, upon kindling my delicate devoir to write and write and write whatever it could be in my silly little livejournal left to be devoured, begging in the parables only i could perform would i messily compose the sort of mush you would find scrawled when my burgeoning creativity was only plasmic but panicking to pour before a last, last january's end (1/21/2015) spattered against a dead-end and dimmed canvas word roar. an astute literati or artist will see it clear as day. probably anyone would. that was me. that was me: knowing it will be over soon, no way to say or escape my paralyzing heroin addiction, craving a rescue from the hopeless everydays i smothered my last ever beloved, so scared of being separated from her that i resigned to sedentary but sleepless overnights in front of her laptop finding little but misery and counting down the hours before she would shoot me up in my feet, inspired beyond comprehension in that microcosmic cycle by william burroughs, jack kerouac, david lynch, marlon brando, jun togawa, brion gysin, the doors, lars von trier, bjork, and the orbital madness that had become living far too long, and yet having no real means to be. we know how that story ended but still keeps going."
jay electronica amassed and assembled a lyrical work to jon brion's cinema score to "eternal sunshine of the spotless mind" exalting a word surge to little but fertile virtuosity. it found me never too late.
jay electron's track 'eternal sunshine (the pledge),' words and words against a composition score for the film "eternal sunshine of the spotless mind" for 15 minutes absent even any percussion, among his other releases, his words ("spit that kurt vonnegut, that blow your brain kurt cobain, that nirvana shit"), has ignited something special within me. i'm page pouring and word roaring. don't stop meなう。
We're presented a meditative view of a faraway industrial park, adorned with chain link fences and strewn with abandoned buildings cemented in an ashtray gray, being enraptured whole by a dusk searchlight as if it was celebrating a carnal starlet's stage play.
A lonely and distant silhouette of someone is caught in a graceless sprint from one side to the other as silence becomes the soundtrack. We're immediately confronted by an adolescent girl who becomes the centerpiece of the shot as her cacophonous gasps overwhelm, and we follow her with a fixed and steady shot as the desolate scenery seemingly recycles itself in the background. Her face is bruised, lips cracked, and her wide-eyed visage pours an unseen fragrance of disbelief wounded by another reality. The dim leftovers of sunset become swallowed in a celestial magma of unnatural light as she murmurs a scream strung and wrung of all verbal essence before it could be heard. Cut to black.
still working. always working. all by myself. got nothing left. want nothing anymore. need nobody anymore. i'll be back as someone better when i'm worth my atomic matter to matter. let's get metaphysical.
on top of that, although it's fairly minor, on friday + saturday they have live music/DJ, a dance floor, and people, families, couples, whatever will dance to persian pop music and these red and green strobelights will potently flash which handicaps me to let my eyes be taken by gravity, away from the physically excruciating bursts of nuclear light, or simply shut them as clever as i could without drawing attention to it from everyone else while rescuing my brain matter from being broiled in an epilepsy fricassee. it becomes very old after having to criss-cross that strobing no man's land literally every other indefinite minute. i didn't say anything because it wouldn't make a difference. on that particular night, the owner told me that they're doing this vague "after-party" deal which i found out is an instance where they quite literally keep the place open until stupid o'clock for a larger group to use as their hangout. this other girl warned me that it's complete bullshit because they almost always just pay the owner a few hundred or whatever for bottle service, it lasts until 2-3AM, and servers are held hostage to this strangled hope that the patrons will order something else without being allowed to leave until the patrons want to leave. she told me she hates it and never wants to do it but the owner was (again) nonchalantly breaking it down in a matter-of-fact way that i'm expected to just stay for it until whenever on my very first day after already being dragged to do a double-shift for no tips and less base pay than the hours i actually worked. that's not exactly appealing to any of my warmest senses. the manager who hired me (a very, very nice lady) caught me, mentioned it, and i mustered all my imaginary telepathic ability and facial nuances to tell her loud and clear: that's kind of bullshit, i've already worked a double since 11AM, it's 10:30PM, why am i still here, and if you flat-out tell me that i'm supposed to stay until after-hours, whenever that is, i'm going to walk right here and right now. thankfully she understood and gave me this bothered look, agreeing that i've been there "all day" upon telling her my earlier hours, and i somewhat overheard her mildly arguing with the owner about it. i guess she won, she told me i can bounce at 11pm, and the owner was whatever. i've found it to be completely true that my youthful appearance gives way to almost everyone (especially employers) that i'm young, dumb, and vulnerable to the usual pressure to go with the flow, and i wouldn't go out of my way to let my actual age be known because i shouldn't have to do that. in all honesty, wherever i work, particularly in restaurants no matter how nice or not, i actually expect my treatment to be a little less than fair, but my patience and discipline to fake it 'til i make it looms only so little after that. i've been there, done that, and i have little tolerance to repeat the same stress i've learned from identical instances of my life. i don't expect tips, i don't expect fair hourly pay, and i don't even mind working a double, but everything else is really trying on my tolerance.
on top of even all of that, as i was working my last half-hour, everyone else was on a break before presumably putting in their hours for the "after-party," and eating dishes of the food. i swear to god, i thought i could take home some food, and by the night time i was wondering what i would pick. as i was finishing up, the owner told me i'm good, i can leave, come back on saturday @ 5pm, and goodnight. no offer to be fed. nothing. i was going to say something about it but i thought "fuck it" and drove home. that's really shitty; i work a double on my very first day, it's not like i'm taking home any money, and you can't feed me?... nothing? everyone else is or was eating as i was working by myself. that's not reassuring and frankly that's really low. it's a family-owned place, beholden to no restrictive corporate policies to hide behind, and you can't let me have something to eat? that dude was pestering me to break out my mobile and take photos of the different dishes as they were coming off the line, adamant i keep studious to the menu, but he couldn't offer me to order something from his own restaurant to eat?... really? i still can't get over that. i've never had that happen either. everywhere else i worked as a server, i was always invited to eat/take home something for myself. fuck that guy.
if there is one perk, whether it's a fellow employee being convincingly cool to be around, looking forward to good pay, or the actual job being less stressful than usual, i'm all for it and it's more than enough to stay until i'm much more comfy in the routine. here, however, every first impression and glance presents a convincing portrait of a promising job, but my insides are deflated as all of these shards of reality converge in a metronomic stabbing motion for every lost thought i let go while on the clock. nobody orders drinks. customers are pretty rude. most of the employees aren't nice or friendly. the owner is fucking me out of paying me the hours i was like, working. on top of a double, he really and truly believed i was going to work a second shift, in the same day, from like 7pm-2am after already working 11am-4pm. the weekend strobelights pierce the lobes of my brain. no tips. no food. no promise. i'm supposed to go at 5pm but (predictably) i received a call @ 2pm and subsequent voicemail telling me to come in as soon as possible. within the voicemail, one of the managers (whoever it was) made mention how they're "very happy with (my) work," all of that positive encouragement, i know i perform a good and attentive job, but i figure this is how it's going to play out over there.
strangely enough, the servers have no sections, no real system, and everything is just up in the air, in the moment as far as who takes what tables, which can be good or bad; at the same time, i like some order. i like relying on something and knowing what to expect as far as where i'm at so i can mentally prepare to do the very best job i could, i like to know where i'm serving, where i have to watch, and i somewhat figure someone new, like myself, would be pushed out for aggressive persian chicks to take all of the tables, especially the big parties (there are many of them because persians), and i'm left scalped and scissored apart on the cutting room floor to take the scraps. at this point, i have the steakhouse place in santa clara set up for an interview the next week, although the girl hasn't emailed me back about a proper day to do it (which i pushed aside yesterday morning to show up to work my first day at this place), and i don't expect to stay. i don't feel good about any of it and i just want a stable place to be a server that's emotionally, physically, and practically tolerable enough. i give bullshit plenty of wiggle room but i can only tolerate so much as i've said. i plan to show up in a bit, it's almost 4pm, and i have to get showered, dressed up, and figure out how to tie a tie since i don't know how to do so myself. i grew up in a house of women, i was never taught or shown any of that stuff. i really couldn't give a fuck about stressing myself out to call back, apologize for not immediately interrupting the rest of my day and night to show up earlier than i was told without notice, and making my way there in the hopes they're not upset at me. no, i'm going to stress, but not about that; i'm going to stress about getting the fuck out of there tonight and making sure they know that i cannot come back for sunday. i'm pretty sure i told the hiring manager that sunday, march 12th, is a day i need off no matter what (james' memorial show in oakland), but i'm completely uncertain if the owner knows that. if that's an issue, fuck it. saturdays are supposed to be really banging at this place, really busy, really loud, big parties, all of that, but it's difficult to conjure up excitement when i'm not getting tips and probably an hour shaved off my wage for no comprehensible reason like yesterday. i don't know if i'm coming back after today but i'm also not planning to stay past midnight if that's what they ask. i just didn't want to drop out without notice on my second day even though that would make the most sense, but i would like to think i could have some class about it. i'm wasting hella time typing in here and it's almost 4pm. meh.
i'll let it be known what works out, if any of it, but i'm still hoping against all hope that my feel for the situation could be turned around and shuttled to a brighter place. maybe it was just a rough first day because it was a first day, and the second one will be what i need to help blanket me in some confidence and comfort. i'll say what happens when i can. see ya for now.
sleepy weekend spent mostly playing with the kitten babbies, snuggling a slumbering momoちゃん to purr as she's curled (always), flourishing a scriptment for a separate project in final draft 10 (⋈◍＞◡＜◍)。✧♡ (i'm so happy and grateful i own it!) and i received four calls + email for interviews at really nice places! one is a pan-asian vegetarian spot for the saratoga location that is opening up soon, one is a more upscale persian place in cupertion + gorgeous full bar, one was a parisian place in santana row, another is a 超gorgeous singaporean place in cupertino that already seems like they already want me to start the day of my interview, and the last is a steakhouse that i'm doing phone interview this afternoon.
the vegetarian place was really nice inside, the menu is exactly the sort of cuisine i adore, but the lady was super honest in telling me the money probably isn't what i'm looking for. many of the patrons are expectedly super uptight about the menu since it's a healthy vegetarian/vegan place, she's having issues with servers who don't know the full menu inside and out as they need to (even though the menu is fucking HUGE), and she was honest about putting me to work and presuming i'd leave for something else soon after. i told her to give me a call in a month if she wanted and that i'd probably be up to work a second place to supplement whatever else i'm doing. this was like the first time ever that someone like that was not only honest but looking out.
i dressed up dapper and went to persian place in cupertino in the morning time before they opened and awestruck at the full bar. i think i've been there before but perhaps not... the lady who interviewed me was really, really warm and nice, showed me around, and told me it's banging on friday and saturday nights, they do a lot of huge parties (because persians), but she made a point to convincingly express how the synergy entwined with the patrons and other employees is fantastic. that's a major factor and i'm glad she said that. the owner called me that night, who i couldn't meet because she was in a meeting, and offered me to start whenever i could. i told her friday because i have to find time to go to valley fair, probably to uniqlo, and buy black on black dress pants and ties to wear. i don't think i have any and if i do, fuck it, i want new ones. so there's that! bam.
yesterday afternoon, after that interview, i went home, dressed back up, went out to santana row, and showed up to french place. not only did they make me wait 20+ extra minutes from my appointment time (which i think is rude), i was sitting when the host asked me what i'm applying to do, i'm like "FOH server," and he rudely and loudly mutters, "too young." i thought that was really rude and i figured he may or may not be older than i am and he's hosting; well, go be a hater somewhere else where i don't have to hear it. it didn't become any better. this girl came out, introduced herself, acted so not-warm, and had this other lady sitting next ot her to shadow which led me to think to myself, "this is probably going to be bullshit" as it looked like i was a training dummy for someone to practice being a manager or something. the interview... wasn't even an interview. this lady began asking me those badly-written, generic 'who gives a fuck' kind of questions off a piece of paper, in a third-grader's monotone reading voice, things like, "what is the difference between hospitality and service?" and anyone that knows me well enough knows i cannot stand that shit. i'm taking my time to show up, look presentable every which way, and be interviewed; i'm not there to be treated like a faceless drone. she was extremely rude; she would ask me questions that made no. sense. at all. she would ask like, "two customers each order the same glass of wine. how would you upsell?" (that was the literal question in verbatim). i was dumbfounded because i write a lot, i think about worded expression quite a bit, probably much more than the average human being, and none of that really makes any sense. certainly not enough to even give a bullshit answer. however, at this point i began thinking, "yep... this is bullshit" and told her, as politely as i could, that it's not exactly a clear question. i asked, are you asking me which wines i would recommend? are you asking me to phrase my upsell spiel? are you... anything? she fucked up by looking at the other lady sitting in and just repeated the latter half of the 'question.' so i gave her this puzzled look and asked if she could give me, i don't know, some sort of example answer since i really don't understand what she's even asking. she literally was like "uhhhhh....... uhhhh................," other lady couldn't elaborate or say anything when glared, and she turns back to me and declares, "i don't know how to make it any more simple." at that point i was upset. nothing fucks with me more than when people speak to me like i possess only lower intelligence than they, so i just told her that upselling is an inherent part of serving; i know that. everyone should know that. it was awkward but i can't answer questions that make no sense and the person asking can't muster up any hint that she comprehends it either. it was pretty fucking stupid and bothered me. she peers back down to her piece of paper, reads out another meaningless question in her gradeschool reading level, and asked my favorite dish. WHO. GIVES. A. FUCK. like, really? this is the interview at an upscale parisian place? really?... are you just not going to ask anything about my experience, about me, about my schedule, about anything remotely relevant to why i am here? i thought i wading in the toxic waters of my own nightmare. so i just answer, saying anything, my expression likely being one where i'm half-laughing because we should all be loudly acknowledging this is incredibly stupid, and i ramble onward about whatever nonsense regarding high-quality and fresh ingredients. she retorts with this wholly condescending note to the effect of, "i just wanted you to describe the actual dish." wow. except no, bitch, you didn't ask that. at all. you asked me my favorite food which i still cannot believe she asked; i should've been like CHEESE PIZZA, saying no more, because stupid questions deserve stupid answers.
they called me not even an hour later, no voicemail message, and called me earlier this morning - still no voicemail left on my mobile. i wasn't in the mood to deal with it because i certainly intend to tell the owner/manager my issues with the way the interview was conducted and the rudeness of the host when he has no idea how old i am even if i look "young." plus i have zero interest to do anything there; i realized that although i love shopping at santana row, oh god i love it, inevitably i will have to 5150 myself if i had to serve such people. way too many of the sort of people here, who go to santana row, they're all new money, no class, no dignity, and get off on speaking down to people when the opportunity arises. they really do and i have no interest in any of it. i don't know what i was thinking but the owner had called me while i was cleaning my kitchen and came across very nice, so i wanted to give it a try. when i saw marla yesterday afternoon, before i trotted to that place, she told me she has an awful experience with the service; one of the servers (who was already really terrible) kept her credit card without giving it back, she didn't realize it until a day later, she called, they said they will give her a gift card to comp a meal for next time, and when she went to get it they had instead given her a business card to contact some manager for it - which she rightfully thought was bullshit. that was a red flag... red flags dancing to the tune of a nuclear fallout siren.
i start @ arya on friday morning but i have to buy some clothes, like ties and black pants that aren't denim (boo), and i shall wing my way to uniqlo. maybe buy other stuff if it catches my eye because i have this debit card with a million billion dollars on it but it wouldn't be wise to blow money, especially money that's not exactly mine, on a salivating shopping spree. the steakhouse place just emailed me a moment ago after my phone interview went wonderfully but maybe i shouldn't say anything before i read it... maybe they'll politely say no. fuck it, i'm gonna check.
oof. well they said they want to do an in-person interview but she offered to do it the exact same time i work the other place tomorrow morning, and i recall her telling me on the phone that they only really do interviews on fridays (;´Д｀) i can't miss my first day at arya, i promised, so i'll hit her back up and ask if she could accommodate another time. i just want to have this all settled, get back to working, pretend i have an actual like... life to live, and let good things happen. i can't stand the anxiousness, learning curve, new this, new that... but it's all in the nouveau name of a brilliant blossoming of positivity. for once (●´ω｀●)
anyway, she was inquiring at veterinary clinics and animal hospitals around west san jose where we both live now and i meandered mostly about santana row at upscale places to do serving/bartending. we both did good, suffice to say, but i never felt any appeal in putting words together for things not yet whole. i guess brittney coincidentally received an email in the early evening about veterinary school @ saint kitts in the caribbean with a skype interview on friday morning and my mom would like to leave the US with her to settle on her own there if that worked out. she doesn't want to stay here anymore and i don't blame her. in that glittery future, that leaves me here in the states all by myself. that leaves me all alone in LA. that leaves me with my life the way it was meant to be: privileged as fuck to not do much but writing scripts and rewriting others' work for $$$ and sadness and casual hope and soft dope and sincere sex and nothing will change, would it?... albany airspace is my baptism to breathe something better.
maybe mentioned before but i was perusing my gmail accounts on my new mobile, deleting the slathers of junk mail from an eternity or two ago i celebrated as i counted down to the dates, and came across a notification about some LJ and entry i have no memory having written at all. almost always, beyond being drugged and dragged by dangerous designer benzo syntheses, i'm proud of my recollective artistry, but i'm blurred in anemic blanks when bloodied by emptiness. it's potently poignant as fuck, so much so i send it to one of my therapists who asked, and i'm sure i'll hear something about it when i see her next.
"it kills me each and every time... every autumn has brought the apocalypse to every spring-soaked rebirth. my hand-weaved wicker cocoon shell will break open and what will burst out? another specter's voice given refuge in my brain? another addiction? another love? it's been too overwhelming for me to count the blessings i'll soon resent for taking their violent leave from this off-broadway pornography that makes up my "life".
i've found myself seeking self-destruction through self-destructive forces and people. suffice to say, i've yet to be granted the sort of selfish peace i believe i deserve to blanket myself under. heroin came close and yet heroin remains the lead instrument in this cacophonous blur that, if only these trembling hands permitted, would see their last anxious quivering against the angelic cries i imagine make up those last few moments - the ones you panic against - because you realize life isn't to be thrown away. what a stupid game.
i've run out of the sort of synaptic misery that could travel from my nervous system, to these fingertips, to the undressed text spit against the graying glow of this dead-end canvas. there is only a special sort of emptiness left, a cavity craving the sort of achromatic, pure pregnancy of bliss that shares the colors of what usually dwells inside a plastic insulin syringe. i'll still reel from that emptiness as i fall asleep sullen, lacking affection, lacking warmth, dreaming the dreams of the heroin addict i've proudly become. perversely, looking for death in heroin, i've found a renewed incentive in carrying myself to each day that comes next for the bliss it brings. you can't win."
i imagine i was fucked up on some fashionably flavored feels to type it on megan's windows 7 laptop like it was some beacon bright lost late night light. i couldn't tell her about the actual traumas or guilt that were devouring my viscera like a childhood sickness. i couldn't draw it for anyone. it wasn't her fault; i didn't have it in me to tell anyone why i would wish to ensure my sluggish self-destruction when i should have been taking care of her, being hummy hum, make her proud, and give her a life she deserved. she wouldn't have understood and it's better she never knew the sort of fucked up things that were eating me alive. she couldn't have helped beyond all she was for both of us each knitted daybreak and dusk ache which was more than i deserved had she not loved me as much as she did. it's a bewitching piece of why i can't let any of it go and why i loved her so much more than i thought i could. if i didn't count her humor, intelligence soar, voice, scent, soul sore, loli inclinations, girlish sensations, or princess looks then she would still be my lolita that i found in the books.
that's it and that's all. for today. for now. see me off in spirit while i cradle a sleepy lap nap kikuちゃん to let the pupper out while i snuggle cigarette cotton on my lips and kiss kissy momoちゃん on her trendy spot. brittney went to one of her interviews @ south bay veterinary like up the street a little bit ago and i plan to bang out every app and whatever by tonight before i pour to work in final draft 10 ( ・∀・)ｲｰｷﾓﾁ logan told me he's gonna make his way over here on the 8th but i'm unsure if he's up to do anything little or more before we reunite through the sunday night door. hopefully everyone comes; i'm also 超proud of alissa for doing so great, staying with the right people, and i can't wait to see everyone else. especially george if he makes it. it's worth everything in the world to be there. until then, will celebrate any good news in all my modest loneliness on here if and when it bleeds and blooms like rebirth moons. see ya.
a love story taped together from cut-up cue cards left behind from cosmopolitan drug party stages, playing the part of a sad singer ever since to rework every word of my folklore in a nervous cursive marionette pull of pages, gunshot perfumes broken inside my head to slather my soul sore, sung scratchy by an imaginary street light lolita choir, "river deep mountain higher," synthesizing anemic teenage reveries to a whispered key of symphonic scripture, almost wish i departed a depressed valley boy preyed on pain pills by her, any scrape of reincarnation willed to parade the sky in a seductive fever, scraped and prayed to her, dreamed a dream i waltzed in an abandoned cathedral to the melody of a girlish quiver, wishing for a different eternity flown a flurry of an adolescent costa rican honeybee stung in coy fancare, wettened lips UGHHH not feeling this but i will by saturday (2/25) i have way, way too many people hitting me on messenger than am used to.
(2/28) annnnnd they still are just as i began writing again. i wanted to get to another two entries enthusiastically posted, one of them to share and comment on a lost entry from a lost LJ i discovered (not recalling when i wrote it at all) from january 2013, and then writing about what has happened upon the past few days (mostly today) and regarding james' memorial show/event on 3/12 i'll be attending. alex also began texting me about the treatment clinic here and i was telling her what it's like, what to do, how to do it, what she needs to get done if she wanted to try it out, and i said i'll swing by the next morning and ask about her situation if her particular medi-cal coverage (which is like alameda county alliance?) is accepted and she's good to go. i'll warmly do anything to not only do as much as i can for a beloved friend that did so much for me when i needed somebody, but also to help a good person like her find some sanctuary from the sort of life we've both lived - although her far longer than i - if she wants it. if i can believe that i inspired and helped her get clean and find a new way, it would be a life worth living no matter how much it has hurt and still hurts - to help somebody who i found was very pure-hearted and a good soul. she deserves to be happy and the very least i could do is to meander out of my way only the littlest bit to help. i'll get to where i want in here soon but on better news i was saving, my mom was asking me out of the blue what i was working on lately as far as my own writing stuff and rewrite work i've been emailing to those only known to me, and she nonchalantly offered to outright buy me final draft 10 software as encouragement. i'm so not used to that but i was so excited and grateful, and then i got it! before i was using a pirated final draft 9 with limited features as i had to disable it from connecting to broadband so i've been exploring the new options such as the beat story board and alternate dialogue features. plus a few more i desperately wanted or needed. i can only spawn so many words in one day of existence.
so i'll do my best to get on here tomorrow. today my sister and i traversed to palo alto, dressed up, super early this morning to be somwhere very important for our family, tuesday is my day for usual medical and therapist appointments, but wednesday we were going to go out together and job hunt, make a day of it, have lunch at the end, and maybe one of us will come back with good news. between paragraphs, i went to fetch more diluted grapefruit juice and spent forever but never enough moments petting, cradling, kissing, and scratching my momo kitty. she's everything i remembered her to be and so special. if i didn't have her here these days, i know i wouldn't be nearly as okay. i guess i should save all of this for a real entry than this endlessly amended and reworked one, right?...
i hope rena will get back to me and let me know she is okay. i worry so much. i'm going to text/call her mobile by tomorrow afternoon, in between my appointments, if i don't hear anything back on text or skype. i know i need her so much but i feel she needs me more. she's my first love, my best friend in the world, and the only person left i would trust with my life in any heartbeat. rena, if you're reading this at all, please give me a few words to let you know you're okay?... you don't have to commit to a whole conversation or anything. i just need to know you're doing your best even if it hurts every which way. if anybody would comprehend, it's me, but i stress and worry so much. i love you more than anything, kitten.
(leftover lines: mouthed aroused in a teapot boil of chrysanthemum oil // leaping along lost highways a sour cinematic hue, only an avenue more to me for your too young for true love debut /// dared to dream of my own god ) (WILL FINISH BUT PEOPLE HITTING ME UP)
dared to dream of god
i hadn't ever seen this photo of whatever taken by daphny that was scrawled before i escaped up to the bay to be in love with my last lolita ever. still, when accompanying her to somewhere in oakland, i was greeted by "HAY BIG RUSSIAN COCK" because megan decided to share my nudes with like, her baes i guess, which is cool, as long as it's people she trusts. it's only unsolicited flattery and flattery gets you everywhere and anywhere with me. an eternity ago, so much so it wouldn't ever matter now, but i like sharing photographs of anything related to an era of my life very special that i hadn't ever seen before.
2/20: my new (and better!) and replacement laptop will finally arrive tomorrow. am making sure my sister is in the house to answer the door in case it's delivered to the very front door (if fedex can figure out and find it) in the half-hour or so i'm gone and back again like usual, and i'm sure it'll rain for the millionth day in a row so i wouldn't want to risk it being out and about for no reason. i wrote what i wrote above in a little few minutes, normally i'd wipe it away and roll my eyes, but for the most part i'm in the bad habit of saving what i scribble down and building from there. i have an even worse habit of equating the way i live, extremes, and believing something should pour as pure art or it's worthless. obviously that's not how any of that works and i wouldn't survive the guilt of 'turning in' anything i didn't wear myself out trying to word perfectly. that's the sort of nightmare you dwell when your everything is words. words everyone knows and could put together. you have to not only be way better than they could ever be, but you have to do it well enough to take notice from everyone everywhere else for it. that's not terribly easy to do but i live in extremes. see you in tomorrow's edited entry of this (if fate brought you in the in-between to catch yourself already here).
2/21: momo is here with me again. for everything that has hurt lately, she purrs it all away in her unique and special kittenbaby nuances i could never forget that lets me know she truly remembers me. she almost always wants to follow me back in my room, often pawing at my door as agonizing as that is, but i promised to take care of kiku in the meantime as we slowly adjust all the kitties together. kiku is very scared of the other cats so she has been snuggling in the safe space sanctuary of my room with me since i'm in here almost always anyway. whenever she whines, i'll herd the other animals in one of the rooms so she can use her kitty box, run around, not feel too couped up, but she only ever wants to follow me away. i promised my dad i would do my best to keep her company, give her attention, kiss her (his specific request), and make sure she gets extra special attention since she's especially stressed out from so much happening and really not used to other pets or even other people in the house. i think i've done a good job; i always cradle her, talk to her, play with her, hold her, kiss her, and all that usual stuff since i love and adore all the kitties of the world. thankfully my mom will give me credit for that and tell my dad which makes him happy. i may fuck up everything else because of my depression and so much more, but everyone can count on me to love and care for kitties. sooner than later, momo will be able to stroll to my room the way she's wanted, hop on my bed, and find a place on my legs as i curl in a fetal position the way i remember my last life so long ago within dreams of a pastel palette. i'm deathly sleepy but i'm going to make an excuse to have a cigarette on the other porch, the one not connected to my room, only to give momo my last kisses as she's lazily lying on her side in trilling purrs. i just love her so much and she has really saved me from so much more i'd emotionally suffer without her being here with me again. i don't think anyone but megan could comprehend how happy she makes me, how much she means to me, and how important she really is as i keep living to be better. she's the only real meaningful part of my last life left and that means everything in the world to me. everything.
2/23: will elaborate the more meaningful conversations i carried with logan and someone else regarding james' memorial show @ eli's mile high club in oakland on march 12th the way it deserves, i'm gonna make it there whether i'm alone or not (although i asked alex and george if they wanted me to take them and give them a ride back home so they can make it), but i'm beyond fucking sleepy. alex hays messaged me, we caught up, she asked if i wanted to go to the movies to see 'a cure for wellness' with her (which i actually wanted to see already), we make tentative plans but i may not be able to make it by tomorrow, but we're ending our conversation on exactly how much we both feel tom hardy in mad max: fury road is so fuckable and on about that. unnnffff... then she's like: "i don't know who i would want to fuck more, tom hardy or charlize theron" and i'm not even gonna lie, i'm aroused af when anyone, girl or guy, someone i love and trust, will openly ruminate about a bi kind of arousal we can mutually relate. it just reminds me that i miss sex, like a lot, but that isn't what i need right now. i need to reassemble all of myself before i put it in anyone anytime now again but it's happened by happenstance with others as opportune fucking. using each other, a few girls within an unmissed meaninglessness, no guys, no dick (boo...), but i've felt really over and done with girls since my last love and will never want anyone again that i haven't known and loved before her. left alex a message that i love her, text me, call me if she wants to see that movie tomorrow @ great mall, and let me know if she needs anything especially for being such an absolutely beautiful person, inside and out, and a wonderful friend to me. she really has and for all the instances i word it to her an okay way for her to take. sadly, both of my regular therapists have told me that i still need to abide by the difficult but 'better' decision to not see her as she's all about that life i finally and forever walked away. still, she told me that she actually wants to get in on methadone treatment, asked me general questions about it, but she's covered by medi-cal which is most of the battle. all she has to do is go to intake, dopesick, bear with the few hours they'll force out of you at your worst, give you way too little of a dose, and i straight-up told her that she should prepare to probably avoid sickness by using a little dope within that week. after that, give it a chance, and i've told others that once you really find sobriety as a regular way to live, you really, really, really find how much more blooms wide open for you. maybe it's just me as my creative output was dulled fatal by using so many years and sprouted in a windy embrace after my body and brain learned another way to exist and cope, and alex owes it to herself and knows i'll always insist on keeping her on a good path she probably forgot existed so long ago. if i can help her get used to sobriety, make a routine of going to the clinic for the first few months, staying clean (or strategically "clean" in the meantime), it would be an overwhelming feeling to know i helped someone i love as a human being and true friend.
my new replacement (better) laptop is great, transferred my music from megan's stickered toshiba laptop via external HDD to here, HD screen to watch 1080p movies, torrenting so much stuff nonstop like i'm strangling heaven for its oxygen, and i've begun work on newly-installed final draft 9 by working on my latest draft of IJAK. there were a couple example entries on here that illustrated the sort of obsessive and seemingly meaningless technical filmmaking ideas, storytelling themes, visual queues, and all that fulfillment that remains the last purpose i could possibly exist to be. i'm making the most of my time feeling free from the inevitable choke of major depression, it comes in phases, and i'll be regularly volunteering somewhere i don't want to say where beginning next week. that's the sort of familiar forgiveness i try to earn from living when i feel so guilty for being here as a burden i believe i am to everyone around me. brittney and i made plans to make a day or more of job hunting together @ santana row or anywhere upscale with restaurants i can be a server again, and i would love to stay out of the house to volunteer when i'm not working a 30+ hour server job. that's my plan. i'm going to move in or around the burbank area of LA but for now, even if i'm entitled with all this money to my name, i need to stay here with my immediate family for now. as i've said before, my new life will only really begin upon visiting and staying with rena at her beautiful surburban home in albany, new york, and my next life will begin again. my old life is gone forever and that's okay. as much as i miss megan so much, wanting to believe she really loved me, that the years and way i changed my life to be with her actually means something to her, i know it's up to me, alone as always, to be a way better person than ever upon dedicating so much hurtful time (and counting...) to rebuild my being as something better i hadn't been able to be. maybe someday, somebody special will appreciate that, but i would like to believe i'll be found again by a last love from one of my last lives.
it's so late, almost 4AM, i took a couple pills of borrowed xanax, and i'm drowning in sleepies. need to make my rounds of a last cigarette, last kiss to momo, last cuddle with kiku, and tomorrow is another day. see you around, space kittens.