I found this when we were walking around this weekend. Motifs show up whenever they want, I guess. They have their own minds. In who's dreaming life are you a motif? What do you think you symbolize for them? What do you symbolize for yourself?
I want you to think about me and I'll think about you and I'm pretty sure we're thinking the same thing but I can't check, I guess, till we're in the same room together. There's that story of Sleater-Kinney practicing in their living room and Carrie and Corin playing guitar and screaming at each other and one of them describes the feeling of a jolt of electricity shooting between their chests as they played the song that would eventually become "Call the Doctor" and I can't find the original article but I wanna do that with you. You know, have that feeling.
Today is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. It is also another anniversary, sort of. Sixteen years ago today my family lived in Los Angeles. I was nine years old and this is just before we moved up north to the Bay Area, which was sort of awful (I can never tell if moving was awful or if adolescence was awful and whether or not puberty would have been better if we had stayed in L.A.). But sixteen years ago today at 4:31 in the morning of MLK Day (which was January 17th that year) I remember being woken up by the earthquake.
It was really scary. The next day, my family went for a walk up to the highest hill nearby, which was part of Occidental College or something, and we surveyed the city around us. There were huge plumes of black smoke, my mom took pictures.
I remember watching television, and there was a woman on the news doing a live broadcast about trying to pull someone from a collapsed building. On the TV, the newscaster was in a red dress and she was kneeling and sticking her microphone into the crawlspace under a building, to interview the person trapped underneath. Then on screen there was a loud rumble and the newscaster screamed, everything was shaking in an aftershock. This was a live broadcast, but it was bing filmed across town. I remember watching this on TV and standing up as soon as I saw the aftershock, and as soon as I stood the aftershock hit our house. It wasn't my first earthquake (probably not even my fourth) but have a really vivid memory of it. But then everything wth me is vivid. These days, at least.
Had a really amazing, wonderful weekend. There's so much I want to tell you about, dear friends-who-read-this-blog, but a number of ideas, philosophies, and legal codes require me to use a modicum of restraint.
I guess the one downside of the weekend was that I sort of avoided my usual feedback-loop project regarding sex, love, gratification, etc. But the upside there is that I guess having a thing to miss, like naming an object of affection, is an ultimately productive, good practice. Like, I think I have an actual crush and it's not on some amalgamation of Scott Panther or the number of very real boys that inspired the fictional character Scott Panther. It was a lot of guys, not one and not two.
I think maybe 2010 is the year I stop fantasizing about fictional characters. I might not be ready for that though. I know I don't feel like a fictional character. Not anymore. Not when the way I feel, right now, about you, is so real.
Here's another way I feel abut you, I wanna show off for you.
I don't even have to do it in a coy way, I can be sort of dirty, too. If you want.
Check out this wonderful product that Sister Pico spied when we went on a grocery shopping adventure yesterday with PLD. I haven't tried this, but it seems like it would make pancakes really easy, right? Except the hard part about pancakes, as you and I both know, is cooking them. Can't put an intuitive sense of timing into a spray can, now can you?. Not yet, or, not a can that I'd probably come across anytime soon, anyhow.
Oh well. It's nice that the Batter Blaster is organic, I guess.
I don't know how it came up but I started thinking this morning about that Parker Posey hairdo moment with the curls. Y'know? Sometimes, maybe cause of the cold weather, I just find myself really thinking about when this was her hairdo.
And then I really get to thinking, like something definitely inspired by the fabulous blog You Look Like They Fucked by Jawn who is a crucial new-wave modern thinker who I know I want on my dodge-ball team. (Who's on yours?)
Like, okay, Parker's hairdo and also:
Miss MJ, right? Who forsook her PDX Peroxide clownfro for a therious theventies downtempo polyester auteur look after moving to LA, right? Or maybe even before, I don't know.
But then that always makes me think of:
The always-adorable John aka Johnny Darling aka Lusty J, who writes a really sexy well-written blog you should check out. He only sometimes wears his curly-girl hairdo. There are precious few photos of it online, so you have to kind of extrapolate from the ones above. You'll have to use your imagination OR take your own pictures of Johnny's hair the next time you see him out (and he's wearing his hair curly-- he doesn't always do it), and then e-mail me the pictures you take of him and I'll post them up here.
Or, y'know, start your own blog.
And so then anyways I'm thinking about Johnny and "People I Know Who Wear This Hairdo Who Are Actually In My Life, Lucky Me" and then I start thinking about:
My best friend Bobo, who I am supposed to see tonight. She almost never reads this blog but if she did she'd be happy I'm posting pictures of her.