"who knows where thoughts come from. they just appear."

First shoot at my new Fallon Studio location. My very wonderful friend Vanessa came in from Arizona and agreed to do a sitting for me...

what kind of mixed up world do we live in when a feral cat is more popular than a hot actress?



( make your own )

Momcat's feeling over-crowded lately. She doesn't like all the whippersnappers tearing the place up and she's taken to hiding in a corner in the hallway, or under the bed. Occasionally she still sleeps on the bed with us at night and continues to ignore us as long as we're at least three feet away.

The good news is we found a new home for her. The bad news is ... well, we have to move her. Which is a huge logistical endeavor. Meaning we have to set a trap for her, then we have to take her to the vet (she needs to get shaved, she'd got mats) then she needs to get put in a car and taken to New York. None of which she's going to like. I have this hope, I guess, that if I delay that long enough and blame it on how difficult it will be to coordinate that we'll have that magical breakthrough where I scratch her head and she realizes what she's been missing all these years and we live happily ever after. But in reality, she's going to be a lot happier with bethofalltrades and I need to get her up there.

But I'll miss that grrl. Despite her grumpy looks, she's not mean.

• 12:44 @theisb It could be argued that Watchmen is an exploration of Ayn Rand's(and Ditko's) objectivism philosophy. #
• 13:17 Sketchjournal: Warmup: Dwarven Shaman of the north: tinyurl.com/5jtsj7 #

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So i just finished writting the dream sequence for my novel. I think I am so satisfied with the flow of this sequence it is now so much easier to continue the editing process for this story.

I've been working on this story for three and a half years. Took me one year to write the first draft, but it's been nearly impossible for me to rewrite the entire thing. I've been so busy. In three months i will be home, i'll be able to concentrate on finishing this story. I want to finish it, i know it will be an amazing story once it is completed.

Even though the story is already told, the writing is not what I want it.

I wrote the first draft knowing that it wasn't going to be the finished product. I had to write it this way because i knew if i didn't I would forget the most important details.

So far I estimate the story at being 160,000 words, possibly a bit less...

but here is the first seven pages of my story....i'm sooo happy with it! This is by no means the FINAL FINAL version...but it's about 95% there...


Chapter One: Dreamscapes
In the shape of a smoldering coal, a sun burns high above the desert, reaching down with its limitless light, caressing every crevice and pothole with a fiery hand.
The sunlight projects deeply into the landscape, dappling the tarnished rock ships that jut out of the sand like monoliths from some departed time.
No more than a mile above the blistering ground, a black silhouette moves gently through the hot air as though it were ash falling from nothingness, descending toward the golden sands of Sheol.
An old Arabic sailor stands there all alone. His hair is freshly cut and greased and his broken bronzed skin smells like the deep blue sea. The emptiness of the desert echoes around him like a blaring trumpet.
The long sleeved desert robe he wears is in rags and his old leather sandals are worn out from years of abuse. The only missing piece is his turban, which leaves his head exposed to the sweltering sun.
“How did I end up in Sheol?” he thinks.
He looks out into the desert with troubled eyes, “I must have been drugged,” he says, scratching his slick shiny scalp.
The wind sieves through the dirt and sand like a shovel digging deep into the earth. His brown eyes flinch and gaze attentively at the movements. The next instant, as if an invisible hand reaches out from behind him, he is knocked to the ground.
He falls with a painful thump and sprains his back. He turns and lies on the searing sand with his face toward the sky, moaning in agony and desperation. He couldn’t figure out how he ended up there, of all places!
His attention is drawn toward an indistinguishable blotch passing peacefully through the slithers of sunlight. The closer it drops the clearer the object becomes.
Drifting in the wind is a great white egret, her shadow breaking the light. To his surprise it isn’t the usual desert vulture he expected to see. His eyes falter at the sight of this beautiful bird.
She flies with poise across the dunes, her head retracted and her wings outspread. She surveys the ground with eager eyes, failing to notice the sight of the haggard old man beneath her.
The old sailor watches as she draws nearer. The egret’s black legs thrust outward like parallel branches, so agile and smooth. She looks like an angel suspended in the gold draped sky.
He stands up and dusts himself; the pain from the fall still trickles down his spine. Fiddling with his pockets, he listens apprehensively to the twisting current that pours over the desert knolls.
A new wind carries a strange sound to his ears. It travels over the dunes calling his name: “Hadar!” it says in an intangible whisper.
He glances in every direction, pinpointing with his eyes and ears the transient voice. It trails behind shadows of dust like a boundless spirit.
He continues to stare, watching the gusty breeze and sand swagger with its ghost like gait. The sun is so bright he can’t decipher it from hallucination and reality!
“Hadar,” voices the wind in a soft and pliable tone. He pulls out a red-checkered scarf from his pocket and dabs it on his forehead.
“Hadar—Hadar—” it calls hypnotically.
“What’s going on, who is this?” he says aloud. Droplets of sweat drip down his curved nose, dry lips and chin.
The sun burns hotter as it rises over the horizon. Several minutes pass. The undulated mirage causes the heat to blaze like a fire in a furnace.
He can’t help but think he might pass out if he doesn’t quench his thirst. He staggers forward; the glistening water shines in his mind’s eye like an obsession and follows the egret’s meager shadow.
Without warning his entire body begins to quaver and a sense of possession overcomes him. He falls to his knees and clenches his stomach, which blisters and scalds from the inside out. The hot sand burns his skin through his robe. He wants to scream, but the excruciating pain only allows a whimper to escape his lips.
The face of a child blazes above him, surrounded by six rotating wings against the backdrop of a crimson sky. He covers his watering eyes with his hands. The heat strengthens beyond anything he has ever felt.
Squinting at the sun through the cracks of his fingers he can feel the child’s breath impress upon his skin. He shudders; fear overflows his heart.
“There is redemption in the end,” says the child’s voice with resilient depth.
The next moment the sky changes from a brilliant red into a deep turquoise blue. No sooner had he heard the child’s voice, he vanishes into the light.
A great searing fire swiftly drizzles from the sky like a rain of blazing stones. He curls up on the ground, digging his elbows deep into the sandy sink hole he’s creating with the weight of his body.
“Am I dead yet!” he shouts angrily at the sky, but the shouting is fruitless.
As the brightness begins to fade, he can feel the Sheol opening underneath him, hungry to swallow him. Sand fills his mouth and plasters his eyes as he descends into the whirlpool.
He lets himself go, knowing full well he can never escape the downward spiral he is left to die in.
He wakes up in a sweat.

I'm participating in an exclusive webinar with Splunk's CTO and Director of IT November 18th, 2008 at 2 PM Eastern / 11 AM Pacific.

http://ping.fm/eoouB

catch my webinar tomorrow: Become a Network Psychic: 5 ways to see trouble coming and stop it before it starts: http://ping.fm/F6y1m

A glance at my day:

04:35 Ugh. Just let benny out to pee and poo. Did he not get taken before bed?? Then he insisted on water. I was already having trouble sleeping. #

11:58 cold cold cold! having trouble typing today cause all of my nails are too long except my right index finger, which broke off. #

12:16 even my insulated mug can't keep my chai warm in my 60 degree office. who turned down the heat over the weekend? #

12:51 eating apple pie with hello kitty chopsticks because i forgot to bring a fork. #

Stvlive.com :: Twitter :: LoudTwitter

As you all know, clothing by the incredible Mother of London label is impossible to get ahold of unless you're lucky enough to know Mildred in real life. If only it were available for everyone to buy!

Well, today one lucky person can own a Mother of London piece. Up for auction is a gorgeous neckpiece (one of my favorites!). Click through to the auction here:

Mother of London Neckpiece on Ebay!



[top image by Allan Amato]

model: Ancilla Tilia
photo by LITHIUM PICNIC studio

• 16:41 at PSP, waiting for my flight home. i wish i never agreed to the 1 hr layover in LA, but oh well. it will be nice to be home. #

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I haven't really talked about prop 8 since it passed. I am probably the last person who should comment on this. As a straight white male, I always feel a bit weird commenting on the fight for civil rights. Especially if I am going to criticize certain methods used.

For the last few weeks, protests have been going on around our fair city. Protests have also been happening in other states across the country and I think that is pretty bad ass. Uniting against the powers that be for the greater good is something I can definitely get behind.

Near me, people have been protesting in Silverlake and Downtown LA but people have also been protesting outside of the Mormon church and El Coyote.

Now I think that anyone who has read this for the last few years and anyone who knows me knows that I think religion is a crock of bullshit. I think that most churches should have their tax exemption taken away since many churches like to comment on politics, wars, etc.

When I took a road trip to San Jose for Steveo's wedding, I knew Prop 8 was going to pass. California is a red state masquerading as a blue state. We have Los Angeles and San Francisco as liberal left anchors but in between those cities are several small cities and towns. California elected Reagan and while we hardly ever go for a Republican president, I think that there have been more Republican governors in my lifetime than Democrats. A Californian Republican is center right just like a Southern Democrat is center left and that is how they get elected.

I feel like if you want to get the people that voted for 8 to empathize with your cause or see your point of view, you may not want to protest and rally in front of a church. I just picture the people who voted for prop 8 seeing a bunch of people outside of a church with their signs and thinking, well i'm glad we took away their rights. They're godless human beings anyway.

Let me give you an extreme analogy (emphasis on "extreme"): there are a lot of people out there who don't like gays but think the fact that the Westboro Church protesting people's funerals is pretty disgusting. When the Westboro church does this, they don't usually get people on their side.

This is all from a PR standpoint.

I also think that the Mormon Church is an easy target. It is located in lovely nice neighborhood of Westwood. Why isn't the Catholic Cathedral in downtown LA being targetted? The Catholics gave a lot of money to this bill. I know a lot of the pundits on TV are exaggerrating the black vs gay thing and I'd hate to do the same. But there are several black pastors in the Los Angeles area who have openly stated that they support prop 8 and that they told their congregation to do the same. Why aren't those churches being protested?


and speaking of easy targets, I think protesting El Coyote is an easy target.

For those of you that don't know, El Coyote is a neighborhoody Mexican restaurant in LA. The food is ok. The drinks are strong. Now I will say that I am a bit biassed here. I loooove El Coyote.

The owner is a Mormon. She gave 100 dollars to her church during the elections and supposedly did not know what it was for.

she had a press conference and a special lunch so she could explain and it went south. http://laist.com/2008/11/12/el_coyote_restaurant_prop_8_lunch_h.php

People are also going to yelp and giving the restaurant several 1 star reviews



The thing is, I understand boycotting El Coyote. If you want to boycott them, boycott them. I think even after this all gets settled (I am pretty confidant that it will get settled by courts soon), that people will remember this and never support them. My father would not set foot in the Imperial Pallace in Vegas because the owner was a nazi sympathizer.

but why not boycott Cinemark Theaters (http://laist.com/2008/11/13/movie_theatre_ceo_donates_to_prop_8.php)
who gave $9,999 to the campaign. They have 2 or 3 theaters in the LA area.

or boycott these restuarants who gave way more money to YES on 8 than El Coyote and also litter our city landscape with chain after crap chain:

( Read more... )

I know that you could argue that 1 dollar of hate money is as powerful as $10,000 of hate money but I also think of the places I frequent in my neighborhood. I think of the little mom n pop burrito place I go to where the cook always tells me to "go with God" when I leave. I just think, I probably don't agree with their politics. If I found out they supported prop 8 with a hundred bucks, would I boycott them?

Why not attack the evil big wigs rather than the mom n pops?

I don't know. I put this all in one entry but both trains of thought should probably be in separate ones.


Maybe I'm overly optimistic but I think this thing will be settled in the Courts and I think it will go the way we all want it to.

It all seems fake when you're doing it. When you're writing some dumb thing that you know is inconsequential because it is, after all, written by you and you're not a famous writer, like, at ALL, and you barely take your career seriously because you know how gross it is when people do that. And then the emails come and there's a contract and then there's a little check that covers maybe a third of your rent for the month but still you go, "Well, they say this is going to be in a book and that it will come out sometime soon and yeah I'll believe it when I see it."

And then THIS COMES IN THE MAIL:


And your name isn't on the back yet because it's just an advance galley but you got sent the high-res picture of the back cover by your editor a few days ago and you're not really supposed to show on your blog yet so you won't, but your name WILL be on the back cover because all the names on the cover are the same as in the order the essays appear in the book and your essay is second-to-last in it.

Anyway, it's called "Love is a Four-Letter Word" and Michael Taeckens is the editor and the contributors are:

Junot Diaz, Wendy McClure, Jennifer Finney Boylan, Dan Kennedy, Kate Christensen, Said Sayrafiezadeh, Maud Newton, Josh Kilmer Purcell, Margaret Sartor, Michael Taeckens, Lynda Barry, Emily Flake, Patty Van Norman, Gary Shteyngart, Michelle Green, Brock Clarke, Jami Attenberg, George Singleton, D.E. Rasso, Pasha Malla, Amanda Stern, Dave White and Wendy Brenner with an introduction by Neal Pollack.

It is published in July of 2009 by Plume/Penguin.

It's silly of me to say and feel this because through mutual friends I kinda/sorta know her a little and hung out with her a couple times so I could never treat her like a big star but that doesn't diminish the fact that she's one of my idols and now HOLY BALLS I AM GOING TO BE IN A BOOK ALONGSIDE LYNDA BARRY. And amidst all these other somebody-writers I get to be one of the nobodies and I'm about to pee my pants.

friday

i felt so sleepy. as soon as i got home from work, i went upstairs to bed. i did not want to do anything.

then i got a text from phil.

there was a bike ride tonight
a "midevil" ride
and it was starting at pioneer chicken

i went back to bed. christie scared the hell out of me when she woke me up.

we were both beat and trying to get into the idea of going on a bike ride. since i got my new bike, i have not been on a massive group ride.

we decided that we would go but we had to get pumped up. we went to fat fish for sushi dinner. then we rushed on over to highland park to pick up christie's bike then back to my house to wait for phil.

we packed up three shiner bocks, two sparks, two boddingtons, some smoke and we were off to pioneer chicken. People were decked out in tights, swords and axes. Some people's costumes were straight up ren faire style and some were homemade. The home made stuff was my favorite. People fashioned aluminum foil into knight helmets and stuff.

Almost right away, we ran into our old rida friend, Al. Al always has the best music blasting from his so I tried to stick by him.

The ride was supposed to be moderate with only one big hill at the beginning. My bike crapped out on that hill and all hills following. It kept "ghost shifting" on every hill. It got to the point where I'd have to hop off my bike and run up the hill. Thankfully, the ride wasn't hilly throughout because if that were the case, I'd be left behind.

At one point my chain came right off the bike and had to be put back on. We decided that my bike would have to be taken in for fixing at some point. Later in the weekend, we figured out the problem. I still need to get a new seat though. My ass still hurts from this ride.

The first stop was in elysian park on top of a hill. There was a glorious view of the skyline. This jewish girl handed phil and i handfuls of special popcorn.

We took in the view and then we were off. There was no spoke card for the ride so there was a lot of

"oh no we are going the wrong way. go back"

and random stops where we weren't sure if we were breaking or regrouping. christie and i took a piss during one of these and came back see everyone leaving.

it was a great ride but that shit never sits well with me.

the ride went thru elysian park, chinatown, eagle rock, highland park.

the ride devolved into a dance party an since we knew how to get home, we left for potato tacos at el atacor and rode home at our own pace.

it was glorious.

pics and route we took after the jump

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