I say that all the time. That's how these things go downhill to that forgotten zone. NOT THIS TIME BITCH.
My weekend was hectic. Universal Studios made me feel like a kid again. Although, I wanted to slit the non-existent wrists of the sun and drag some clouds over it's dead carcass - I had an amazing time. I am not built for hot weather. My tattoos felt like they wanted to detach from my body and run off into the nearest pool of water.
I miss my friends from Portland so much.
Then I saw my family for my niece's 11th birthday party. FUCKING 11th. Are you kidding me?
My niece was born in 2001. Two days after 9/11. Obviously on 9/13.
Tomorrow I'm going to write about my feelings on 9/11. And I don't give a FUCK how controversial they are. That shit is fucking shady and I'm going to call its ass out for the 11th year in a row.
Get ready. My blood boils on 9/11. I'm going to scorch this motherfucking blog with rage.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Heaven Sent Don't Wanna Walk Away
I do this thing where I pick a time period of my life and I'll just sit there and remember all of the memories that I possibly can about that period of time. That one segment.
It's an incredible thing. The human mind.
At barely 26 years old, I have some of the best memories and some of the worst. But no matter what, I love every, single inch of my life.
I'm happy tonight.
Maybe it's the beer. Maybe it's the whiskey. Maybe it's the Xanax. Maybe it's the weird pills my Mom sent me. I don't remember their name but they make you feel good.
But I'm happy. I have a secret reason for being happy. I'm never going to tell.
These moments though, the memories of so many different phases of life. So many different versions of myself. So many experiences I would go back to in a minute. So many people, so many songs, so many drugs, so many nights, so much love, so much hate, so much work, I adore it all.
I love my mistakes.
I love my fights.
I love the struggles, the battles, the wins, the wars, the times that I never thought I'd get through. The times that I felt like I could do anything. The times I did do anything. The times I did things no one thought I could. The times I didn't do anything at all The accomplishments. The proud moments where you surprise yourself.
HOW COULD THINGS BE SO LOVELY AND SO AWFUL? HOW CAN THINGS BE SO UP AND DOWN?
Oh life, you are the most astounding thing I have ever come across. I have met you before but not like this. Not this time. I have been here before but everything was different. I'm convinced I was a wealthy boy. In a different country. I'm sure I was quite the gentleman.
Where do the substances begin and end? I love a lot of things about life. I also hate a lot of things about life. The most ironic part is that mostly, they are the same. Like an overlapping Venn Diagram.
I am the biggest contradiction. I've said it one hundred thousand times. Other people have told me more. BUT WHO IS KEEPING TRACK? Not me.
This is the only moment there is. Live and live and live and take life seriously enough to live but not enough to fear. Fear is the biggest weakness you could have.
It's an incredible thing. The human mind.
At barely 26 years old, I have some of the best memories and some of the worst. But no matter what, I love every, single inch of my life.
I'm happy tonight.
Maybe it's the beer. Maybe it's the whiskey. Maybe it's the Xanax. Maybe it's the weird pills my Mom sent me. I don't remember their name but they make you feel good.
But I'm happy. I have a secret reason for being happy. I'm never going to tell.
These moments though, the memories of so many different phases of life. So many different versions of myself. So many experiences I would go back to in a minute. So many people, so many songs, so many drugs, so many nights, so much love, so much hate, so much work, I adore it all.
I love my mistakes.
I love my fights.
I love the struggles, the battles, the wins, the wars, the times that I never thought I'd get through. The times that I felt like I could do anything. The times I did do anything. The times I did things no one thought I could. The times I didn't do anything at all The accomplishments. The proud moments where you surprise yourself.
HOW COULD THINGS BE SO LOVELY AND SO AWFUL? HOW CAN THINGS BE SO UP AND DOWN?
Oh life, you are the most astounding thing I have ever come across. I have met you before but not like this. Not this time. I have been here before but everything was different. I'm convinced I was a wealthy boy. In a different country. I'm sure I was quite the gentleman.
Where do the substances begin and end? I love a lot of things about life. I also hate a lot of things about life. The most ironic part is that mostly, they are the same. Like an overlapping Venn Diagram.
I am the biggest contradiction. I've said it one hundred thousand times. Other people have told me more. BUT WHO IS KEEPING TRACK? Not me.
This is the only moment there is. Live and live and live and take life seriously enough to live but not enough to fear. Fear is the biggest weakness you could have.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
The Past
I never look back. I never look forward. I only look at here, now and present. Some people hate that about me. I think it's my best quality. Fuck em.
HOWEVER -
I used to write so eloquently, I used to have such a grandiose, lovely vocabulary. I used to phrase things in such a way that I would send shivers down my spine. I used to feel things so intensely that when I would write, it would be like me taking a knife to my skin and bleeding out all that I had left inside on these blank, blinking cursor templates. I used to put together words and ideas that would never be thought to be put together, or anywhere near. I don't know what has happened to me - I have many ideas of what but I cannot pin-point them. For a long time, I always thought that I didn't feel the need to write anymore because I was happy - but the more I think about it, I was just distracted. I was just alluding myself to think that I was happy.
There is this constant and consistent limbo that I live in, probably that I have created - where my depression combines with my happiness in a perfect swirling circle. Like the kind you would find on a peppermint. I've come to terms with the fact that no matter how happy I am, with all or nothing in my life - that there is always this perpetual darkness that lingers there. It is not a bad thing but it is not a good thing. It's an OK thing.
I can't even remember a time where it did not exist. That creature is the one that comes out when I write and for so long, I have suppressed it. I have suffocated it to the most extreme degree that I feel that it has become angry - my inner voice, my inner spirit for lack of a better word and... I feel it emerging. I feel it growing strength and momentum. I do not wish the morbidity upon myself but I do want to feel the passion that I once felt to dictate these words onto these pages. I want to let my subconscious free and see what kind of entity it is now. It has been years since I have even known what my true thoughts are and which ones I fool myself with.
I hope that by engaging myself back into this, that I can find that beauty I once created. Because even in those times of suffering, I felt the most intense happiness of self. The most understanding of my being. And I yearn for that feeling again... of being whole - even if I am in pieces.
I want noise to come out when I scream and I want my heart to beat again.
[There was this girl, who played with pearls
And Pretty Pretty Princess rings
Now she plays with knives and pills
And investigates conspiracies
When the night comes,
She becomes numb
And her eyes begin to beam
Of tragic tales and amphetamine like dreams
Where all the world is clean]
HOWEVER -
I used to write so eloquently, I used to have such a grandiose, lovely vocabulary. I used to phrase things in such a way that I would send shivers down my spine. I used to feel things so intensely that when I would write, it would be like me taking a knife to my skin and bleeding out all that I had left inside on these blank, blinking cursor templates. I used to put together words and ideas that would never be thought to be put together, or anywhere near. I don't know what has happened to me - I have many ideas of what but I cannot pin-point them. For a long time, I always thought that I didn't feel the need to write anymore because I was happy - but the more I think about it, I was just distracted. I was just alluding myself to think that I was happy.
There is this constant and consistent limbo that I live in, probably that I have created - where my depression combines with my happiness in a perfect swirling circle. Like the kind you would find on a peppermint. I've come to terms with the fact that no matter how happy I am, with all or nothing in my life - that there is always this perpetual darkness that lingers there. It is not a bad thing but it is not a good thing. It's an OK thing.
I can't even remember a time where it did not exist. That creature is the one that comes out when I write and for so long, I have suppressed it. I have suffocated it to the most extreme degree that I feel that it has become angry - my inner voice, my inner spirit for lack of a better word and... I feel it emerging. I feel it growing strength and momentum. I do not wish the morbidity upon myself but I do want to feel the passion that I once felt to dictate these words onto these pages. I want to let my subconscious free and see what kind of entity it is now. It has been years since I have even known what my true thoughts are and which ones I fool myself with.
I hope that by engaging myself back into this, that I can find that beauty I once created. Because even in those times of suffering, I felt the most intense happiness of self. The most understanding of my being. And I yearn for that feeling again... of being whole - even if I am in pieces.
I want noise to come out when I scream and I want my heart to beat again.
[There was this girl, who played with pearls
And Pretty Pretty Princess rings
Now she plays with knives and pills
And investigates conspiracies
When the night comes,
She becomes numb
And her eyes begin to beam
Of tragic tales and amphetamine like dreams
Where all the world is clean]
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Unlogical Logic
Sometimes I feel like I am on an entirely different planet. Like my feet are stuck here on Earth, where all I see around me is this disgusting combination of the most beautiful things I've ever seen, along with the most putrid and vile creations of not only life but existence in general.
It brings tears to my eyes.
Sometimes I feel like I was not meant to live a life in this reality that I find myself attached to. There are times that I often question the idea of reality at all. Whose to say what reality is? To me reality feels like the constant human struggle to get others to see your reality as you do or to try and see reality as it is to them.
The human experience is so different.
This is why I get angry when people call other people crazy. Dismiss and mislabel what you don't understand - easier than trying to understand.
This is why I get angry when people tell me how I feel. No one will ever know how I feel unless I tell them.
This is why I get angry when people do not respect the experience of another individual - just because one wouldn't do the same, does not give reason for another to attack the ways in which another has chosen to exist, be, dream, say, do, or not do.
This is why I get angry when people try to change others - the only person who can invoke change is oneself, it must come from within and from a place of desire for that change.
This is why I get angry when people judge what they do not know. What they cannot possibly know. You can think that you know it all but all you know is what it is for yourself.
This is why people say that all human beings die alone. You are all you have. You are all you are. You and yourself and the things that happen to you. To me, you aren't what happens to you - you are what you make of it. To me, reality is what you want it to be because if you have to be in it, you might as well create an experience that is made for you - not made for you to fit into.
To contort or twist into.
To fit uncomfortably in.
When I think of what I wish reality truly was, it does not fit into the guidelines of typical possibilities.
I wish that I could become a small particle of matter and bounce around the universe - in silence, in darkness. Not the sad silence, nor darkness.
Just the quietness of existing, without all the complications. I yearn for the deafening silence, yet, the hustle and bustle of this reality [life] has me held captive and I stay because life is too beautiful and there is something so comforting about being surrounded by the creations that humans have made.
These buildings. These roads. These grocery stores. These car dealerships. They are all I know - for I am not a tiny particle twirling through space. I am many particles, made into a body, in the city of Los Angeles, in the state of California, on the planet Earth.
It brings tears to my eyes.
Sometimes I feel like I was not meant to live a life in this reality that I find myself attached to. There are times that I often question the idea of reality at all. Whose to say what reality is? To me reality feels like the constant human struggle to get others to see your reality as you do or to try and see reality as it is to them.
The human experience is so different.
This is why I get angry when people call other people crazy. Dismiss and mislabel what you don't understand - easier than trying to understand.
This is why I get angry when people tell me how I feel. No one will ever know how I feel unless I tell them.
This is why I get angry when people do not respect the experience of another individual - just because one wouldn't do the same, does not give reason for another to attack the ways in which another has chosen to exist, be, dream, say, do, or not do.
This is why I get angry when people try to change others - the only person who can invoke change is oneself, it must come from within and from a place of desire for that change.
This is why I get angry when people judge what they do not know. What they cannot possibly know. You can think that you know it all but all you know is what it is for yourself.
This is why people say that all human beings die alone. You are all you have. You are all you are. You and yourself and the things that happen to you. To me, you aren't what happens to you - you are what you make of it. To me, reality is what you want it to be because if you have to be in it, you might as well create an experience that is made for you - not made for you to fit into.
To contort or twist into.
To fit uncomfortably in.
When I think of what I wish reality truly was, it does not fit into the guidelines of typical possibilities.
I wish that I could become a small particle of matter and bounce around the universe - in silence, in darkness. Not the sad silence, nor darkness.
Just the quietness of existing, without all the complications. I yearn for the deafening silence, yet, the hustle and bustle of this reality [life] has me held captive and I stay because life is too beautiful and there is something so comforting about being surrounded by the creations that humans have made.
These buildings. These roads. These grocery stores. These car dealerships. They are all I know - for I am not a tiny particle twirling through space. I am many particles, made into a body, in the city of Los Angeles, in the state of California, on the planet Earth.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Unexpected
I ended up in a wonderfully comfortable bed with a big, white, fluffy down comforter in a house on Mt. Olympus (literally the name of the neighborhood) in the Hollywood hills.
Last night it got sprung on me that I had an hour to get ready and then we were headed to the Whiskey to see my boyfriends friends bands 1 time reunion show. I don't like unplanned events but I went along with it - "as long as I don't have to drive". We ended up high-tailing it to Hollywood - 90 to the 405 to the 10, straight up La Cienega - to pick up our 2 friends and have a few drinks before heading down the hill to Sunset. By the time we got there, I was 2 whiskey shots deep and my meals of the day had consisted of an Islands Jr. Wave @ 1pm and a Cliff Bar around 7pm. Fuck it, who needs dinner. There was a huge blow up bong sitting outside the Whiskey that of course, I was enamored with. I met my boyfriends friend, Edgar who also trains with my new girl crush Ronda Rousey (I guess he does MMA also). Regardless, now I know her, 6-degrees-of-separation-style. Score.
We went inside where our friend Brandon bought us all beers and I looked around the Whiskey only to realize I hadn't been there in over 5 years. And ironically, the last time I was there - I was with my boyfriend but we were only dating back then. I don't even remember what band was playing but I found the whole thing a little funny. The band started playing, they are the band formally known as Methadone, now Irate. I don't listen to a lot of heavy music anymore, unless I'm in my boyfriends car - but I have to admit, they were pretty good. A beer later and still with my whiskey shots fully absorbed in my body, I decided I wanted to go into the pit. I asked Brandon's girlfriend if she would go in with me and we slowly merged our tiny-ass bodies into the pit -only to have Brandon push us all the way in. Coming out, unscathed and luckily with my hoop earrings still attached to my ears, which was my only concern. Regardless, I felt like it was 2002 up in that bitch.
The set was short and after taking all the time to drive our asses up there, we decided to go back to our friends house, drink some beers and have a sleepover. Which is something I'm very rarely up for in general but at the same time, I'd hate to pass up a free night in a rich person's house in the hills - despite it being too late and a little too cold to take advantage of the salt water pool. We drank, probably to much, and segregated. The boys did boys things like playing drums and guitar at 1 in the morning while we did girls things like talking about the boys, Balenciaga bags, and how we prefer dogs over people. Her pajama shorts that I borrowed were so fucking comfortable - I'm convinced they were made of cashmere. I had half a mind to steal them this morning but I'm not that much of a bitch. By 3am there was a helicopter circling around and apparently an earthquake (that I'm not surprised that I didn't feel) and then the night was over.
Come 9am, we bounced and headed back down the hill to the nearest McDonald's for breakfast. Thus ending my luxurious night that although was remarkably random, unplanned, thrown together and strange - was probably one of the better nights I've had in awhile. But those are always the best - the ones that could never have been planned.
Too bad my body hated me this morning. And still kind of does.
Last night it got sprung on me that I had an hour to get ready and then we were headed to the Whiskey to see my boyfriends friends bands 1 time reunion show. I don't like unplanned events but I went along with it - "as long as I don't have to drive". We ended up high-tailing it to Hollywood - 90 to the 405 to the 10, straight up La Cienega - to pick up our 2 friends and have a few drinks before heading down the hill to Sunset. By the time we got there, I was 2 whiskey shots deep and my meals of the day had consisted of an Islands Jr. Wave @ 1pm and a Cliff Bar around 7pm. Fuck it, who needs dinner. There was a huge blow up bong sitting outside the Whiskey that of course, I was enamored with. I met my boyfriends friend, Edgar who also trains with my new girl crush Ronda Rousey (I guess he does MMA also). Regardless, now I know her, 6-degrees-of-separation-style. Score.
We went inside where our friend Brandon bought us all beers and I looked around the Whiskey only to realize I hadn't been there in over 5 years. And ironically, the last time I was there - I was with my boyfriend but we were only dating back then. I don't even remember what band was playing but I found the whole thing a little funny. The band started playing, they are the band formally known as Methadone, now Irate. I don't listen to a lot of heavy music anymore, unless I'm in my boyfriends car - but I have to admit, they were pretty good. A beer later and still with my whiskey shots fully absorbed in my body, I decided I wanted to go into the pit. I asked Brandon's girlfriend if she would go in with me and we slowly merged our tiny-ass bodies into the pit -only to have Brandon push us all the way in. Coming out, unscathed and luckily with my hoop earrings still attached to my ears, which was my only concern. Regardless, I felt like it was 2002 up in that bitch.
The set was short and after taking all the time to drive our asses up there, we decided to go back to our friends house, drink some beers and have a sleepover. Which is something I'm very rarely up for in general but at the same time, I'd hate to pass up a free night in a rich person's house in the hills - despite it being too late and a little too cold to take advantage of the salt water pool. We drank, probably to much, and segregated. The boys did boys things like playing drums and guitar at 1 in the morning while we did girls things like talking about the boys, Balenciaga bags, and how we prefer dogs over people. Her pajama shorts that I borrowed were so fucking comfortable - I'm convinced they were made of cashmere. I had half a mind to steal them this morning but I'm not that much of a bitch. By 3am there was a helicopter circling around and apparently an earthquake (that I'm not surprised that I didn't feel) and then the night was over.
Come 9am, we bounced and headed back down the hill to the nearest McDonald's for breakfast. Thus ending my luxurious night that although was remarkably random, unplanned, thrown together and strange - was probably one of the better nights I've had in awhile. But those are always the best - the ones that could never have been planned.
Too bad my body hated me this morning. And still kind of does.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
SEPTEMBER = BIRTHDAY
My Mom already got me my birthday presents. I know this because she asks me every year, early, and gets me 2 things that I really want (real gold hoop earrings/Zomg JC platforms). Then a bunch of other small things she finds over the course of the entire month of September. Then, Taco has to get me some stuff too - she's such a good dog, she gets an allowance. Anyway, I'm a fucking spoiled mommysgirl brat.
BUT...there are a few more things I want. Probably that I'll end up buying for myself but I'm just going to list them for fucking fun.
TOO BAD THINGS COST SO MUCH MONEY. TOO BAD I DON'T REALLY NEED ANY OF THEM. TOO BAD I WANT THEM ALL REGARDLESS.
BUT...there are a few more things I want. Probably that I'll end up buying for myself but I'm just going to list them for fucking fun.
- LA hat (either blue or black - haven't decided). Possibly settle for Lakers hat.
- Dior "Lip Addict" Maximizer
- Kobe Bryant SUNDAY WHITES jersey
- Misfits "Graveyard" T-Shirt
- Suicidal Tendencies "Flip Cap Skull" T-Shirt
- Louis Vuitton logo Charm Bracelet
- Bukowski tattoo on my foot
- Trip to New York (where I may or may not like to do some drugs with Cat Marnell, if possible)
TOO BAD THINGS COST SO MUCH MONEY. TOO BAD I DON'T REALLY NEED ANY OF THEM. TOO BAD I WANT THEM ALL REGARDLESS.
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