Pawning for the Rain

I'm too excited to sleep. Found out about this music festival in Miami called Langerado. I'm just going to list the artists I'd see:

• Death Cab for Cutie
• Thievery Corporation
• Broken Social Scene
• The Faint
• Gym Class Heroes
• Tokyo Police Club
• The Postmarks

Yeah, not all that much. Just seeing Death Cab headlining caught my attention, I guess. I'm so lost with my music. Lately, I've been jumping back and forth between show tunes, We Are Scientists, and noise music (i.e. Sonic Youth, Explosions in the Sky, Ratatat, a bit of BSS). I also fell in the MGMT trap, but I'm sure that's just a phase.

Should go back to packing.

Cindy's Monologue

Cindy laid across his bed, fingering his comforter with one hand as she raises her other arm above her head.

I had a dream about where I want to be later in life. I live in a beautiful home in the hills of Saratoga. Saratoga is an elevated town on the outskirts of Santa Clara County that is really green, and populated with millionaires, reminds me of Oregon, which is a generalization since I haven't spent that much time in Oregon except for driving through. Saratoga was once occupied by Steinbeck and Spielberg. Really smart privileged kids.

She smirks.

My friends who attended Saratoga High joke that Spielberg was a dorky Jewish kid in school who nobody liked.

She flips onto her stomach, excitedly.

Anyways, continuing my dream - I lived in the midst of a forest with acres of hiking territory behind my home. I had a library, filled with all the books I could possibly ever want to read and draw from, and there, amongst armchairs, wooden floors, an antique record player hooked up to a bombass sound system, I can write, and that is my occupation. And I commute to the city whenever my theatre company is starting a production, and half the time, they're producing my work, and I'm renowned as the new Sam Shepard of this generation. The Stoppard of America. And like Kushner, I find myself producing works and festivals in New York, and writing screenplays by Hollywood demand. I would be the frontier of Asian American theatre, because unlike the blacks, the Hispanics, and the Jews, I am unprecedented except by David Henry Hwang, who is more of an experimentalist in multi-cultural theatre and Amy Tan, who is just a hack novelist.

Smiling broadly.

In this life, I am comfortable, but most likely lonely, because ultimately, I live a hermit life. I thrive on the Artist's Loneliness. And there, I will do what I want, living the life I can suffice on, until I die at a terribly young age, because I fear the obscurity of old age. It might be a miserable death; the more I struggle, the better. And though we all face death on our own, I would realize that I had face my entire life alone, and I will regret.

She reaches to him on the floor and plays with his neckline.

I want to live life to its fullest. Let us venture forth.

Found this on the Copy Machine: to AME

This evening was interesting. I only intended to do laundry and pack. Didn't get either started/done. I started smoking at 8 trying to watch The Fall directed by Spike Jones. It's like the second goddamn time I try to watch this film, but I'm always so stoned that I get totally sidetracked by the visual aesthetics of the film; that alone is a killer to the distracted mind. Got picked up by a bunch of friends with whom I smoked even more, played Wii Snowboarding on a projector using the Wii Fit board (love it love it I'm a geek ha!), then got ourselves to the midnight showing of Fight Club at the Clay Theater, where in my baked state, finished an ice cream sandwich, a pop soda, and a "Super Small" bag of popcorn. Sadly it got to the point that whenever I saw blood on the screen, and as you may know that happens often, I needed to go to the bathroom real bad. On the drive home, I had this desire to listen to We Are Scientists; everyone in the car was either slightly amused or incredibly irritable. Too bad - it was my right as front seat passenger to DJ.

Don't worry about ranting; it's a poop fling from both ends, and in our comradeship, we stand uncaring amongst our shit. At least, I don't care. You might very well be over my stinker.

Cereal

The sky was brilliant, so I took Chloe down the stairs and ran with her in the yard. She tried to catch me; I pretended to let her, and howled when she tagged me with her little paws. A baby dog plays in the bright green grass, overpowered by the racing clouds of the brilliant blue sky. I walked to the porch, and she hesitated. Half a minute later, she raced after me. We walked up the stairs, and made green rice Krispies treats.

CNN

It's snowing in Malibu, hailing in the Bay, ice covers Las Vegas.

They're so used to saying "president-elect", I wonder if they'll slip when they say his name when he gets inaugurated. That's President Obama to you, Sir.

Homosexuality, face transplants, Chrysler auto plants shutting shutting down.

I'm waiting for the world to end, just like our economy. Or I should just turn off the news.

Papa Pappas

just saved me again.

Hookah
Valium
Moose Track ice cream
stints on video games & Blu-Ray
writer to writer

and now another sleeping pill
OJ and Airborne

When did I become so addicted?
God, I love you. Thank you for the life you've given me.
And now I sleep, I sleep.

I won't say it, please don't forget it

visceral images, feelings, we're feeling
impossible, she thought - to love you more
but, stop, except, remember
she promised - she will not be in love with you

your tear on cheek, your grasp on her
that is enough
she saw you break
and we will love forever apart

we now understand
that this isn't the end,
simply the start of Beauty
and underneath the skin,
God runs a bloodline to each other
maybe as long as blood runs in us

and finally, we are released
one more time, please
one last time, don't forget
that "I love you"

Momus and Amanda Palmer

I want you, but I don't need you

I like you, and I'd like you to like me to like you
But I don't need you
Don't need you to want me to like you
Because if you didn't like me
I would still like you, you see
La la la
La la la

I lick you, I like you to like me to lick you
But I don't need you
Don't need you to like me to lick you
If your pleasure turned into pain
I would still lick for my personal gain
La la la
La la la

I fuck you, and I love you to love me to fuck you
But I don't fucking need you
Don't need you to need me to fuck you
If you need me to need you to fuck
That fucks everything up
La la la
La la la

I want you, and I want you to want me to want you
But I don't need you
Don't need you to need me to need you
That's just me
So take me or leave me
But please don't need me
Don't need me to need you to need me
'Cause we're here one minute, the next we're dead
So love me and leave me
But try not to need me
Enough said,
I want you, but I don't need you

La la la
La la la

I love you, and I love how you love how I love you
But I don't need you
Don't need you to love me to love you
If your love changed to hate
Would my love have been a mistake?
La la la
La la la

So I'm gonna leave you, and I'd like you to leave me to leave you
But Lover believe me, it isn't because I don't need you (you know I don't need you)
All I wanted was to be wanted
But you're drowning me deep in your need to be needed
La la la
La la la la la la la la la

I want you, and I want you to want me to want you
But I don't need you
Don't need you to need me to need you
That's just me
So take me or leave me
But please don't need me
Don't need you to need me to need you
'Cause we're here one minute, the next we're dead
So love me and leave me
But try not to need me
Enough said
I want you, but I don't need you

Late Night Distress Calls

Four hours passed...

when we discovered that we valued each others' Friendships so much more than whatever else drama we've generated. I've missed you. I thank God that you're still in my life.

There is still so much Goodness in the world, and I am glad and grateful.

Bird Gehrl Continues

There's going to be a new Antony and the Johnsons album coming out soon. I can't wait!

Heater, go!

Drewbie's lying on my floor.
My nose is bleeding.
Eating my cereal, singing the Cereal and Milk song.
Kitchen's getting flooded.
I can't go to sleep.
The world outside is drowning, and I can't see the sky.

So I might be dreaming, but who knows, right?

Spasmodic Thoughts on Arcadia

For all the pages of essay writing that I have accumulated over my years as an English literature student on the Romantics, I can write doubly, or even triple the amount, especially after seeing Tom Stoppard's Arcadia. Having read the play ten times over, and understanding not only the philosophy and mathematics, but recognizing and being moved by the era that inspires my writing and my appreciation of all British literature and poetry, can I say that I was not compelled to wiggle in my seat with glee? Stoppard is a wit unsurpassed by any other playwright that I know of, and the staging and direction done by Bill Peters still amazes me. The moments of silent music, the drawing of the language, characters working working that language, spitting it out after having the words drip down from their brain and age in the cellars of their mouths - JESUS! Stoppard was a genius to take the Personality (capital "P") of Lord Byron. God knows how long and hard I've studied and written existential rhetoric on that persona. I'm so disappointed for having only seen it once, but I'm compelled to never let this play out of my sights for as long as I live.

When we have found all the meanings and lost all the mysteries, we will be alone, on an empty shore.

Holiday Cards to Chloe

Oh, my God. It's pouring outside my window, and I am so, so very happy.

To AME

The play went surprisingly well. I think it's just one of those things where you need the director and the actors and workshop the fuck out of the thing, hear it out loud as often as you can, and squeeze all the poetics out that you can, and find the play underneath all the words. I've just been smoking, hanging out with various friends, playing with Chloe. Trying to figure out what to say to my father when I see him again. Deciding whether or not to take on a full-time job so I can get into grad. school next year. While still in school.

I want to tell you that I know what's going on. And that I can relate. Fuck, I guess if I was in your position, I'd make sure that even hell knows what I'm feeling. All I can muster to tell you is that in the end, not any of this is worth it. It wasn't worth being in a relationship with Daniel when we neared the end. It's not worth loving Gina, when her love for you equated to her need for self-vindication, instant gratification. Jesus, we don't know each other that well, and I'm not your life-long best friend who can tell you what's good for you, and I'm sure you certainly don't want these words coming out of your ex-girlfriend's buddies mouth. But in the end, there is you, and there is your awareness of all that is good for you, and all that you would want and love. And that's all you should really be hoping to attain, and nothing more, because anything more will just be false, debauchery, a fucking waste of this one singular life that you can grasp onto.

At times, I think we live so fast and we die so young, but I think it's the greatest. Maybe Oscar Wilde is right when he states in The Picture of Dorian Gray that loves that are great are destroyed by their own plenitude. And, that only shallow loves live on. But isn't that the point? To love so tremendously? I'd rather not love at all if my love were to be shallow. That's the romantics that I idealized and possibly my downfall. God, there's that Her Space Holiday song that both Gina and I really liked called Japanese Gum. An ex boyfriend made a mix about me once and that song was in it. The first verse is about a girl who gives herself to every boy she finds, and it wasn't so much because it's a slut-mentality, which I struggle with, but rather a sense of giving yourself away because you know they'd take it, and you keep a sense of self-satisfaction that they're taking bits of you with them, always.

And honestly, I'm not going to go on a hunt for my ideals. It should just happen. Life should just happen. The Chinese philosophy on love is that a soul is born with two parts. Shortly after its creation, the soul splits into two and finds two different bodies, and forevermore, through the rest of their lives and through different lives, the two parts of one soul are searching for the other: the soul mate.

Wow, sorry for being so heavy on this message. On some ways, we're on the same boat together, but by saying that, I think there are millions of people on our boat, Gina and Daniel included. I sincerely wish you can find your peace. I'm still searching for mine. You're a wonderful person with a far-seeking mind. Understand that I care, and that I'm here.

C'est la vie,
Cindy

Costco Receipts, Sand in my Teeth, Taquerias

This morning I woke up to a side of toast buttered in unforgiving happiness.

So I'm going to sit here with my hot chocolate and try to
figure it out
figure it out
figure it out
figure it
figure.

with Boughs of Holly

As less distressing as I wish to be,

Christmas may be spent with my father in Orange County. Granted, I feel like when I'll see him that I want to be more civil with him than the last time I saw him, but in many respects I still feel that I owe him nothing, absolutely nothing.

It's going to be a double whammy. A drive to Orange County, and driving back up here. Then two days after, driving to Washington for New Year's.

It's going to be a hell of a holiday.