john gilbert day

So granted, if my lazy ass doesn't fuck it up, tomorrow will a good day to go a John Gilbert hunting. This means, a trek to Tower Road to see if his Spanish style house is still there and then to Forest Lawn Glendale to see if I can find his grave... Er, final resting place. Let's try to make it sound so morbid. He's not dead, he's still very much alive.

The first time I drove up Tower Road, I couldn't see anything because the owners were doing some kind of remodeling and had fences and tarps all over everything. This possibly means that what was once a Spanish/Gothic hilltop residence could now be anything from Tudor style to a modern, dead-tech piece of shit. Roll the dice and take your pick. Who knows at this point? I guess one can't expect things to stay the same forever no matter nice it would be. Why should one place hold as much magic and meaning for another person? But how could you not feel it...

Tomorrow it is supposed to be damp again. Maybe even raining.If so, the day may be cause for reconsideration. There couldn't be anything less thrilling than headstone hunting in the pouring rain. Not to mention it fucks with my hair and makeup and I HATE that. Jack deserves some polish and a bouquet, don't you think? Am I the only motherfucker crazy enough to do that? Probably. Let's try it.

Let's take it back to how it used to be. Jack was the man. He was the slickest with the best moves and a smile to match. Perfect hair and jet black to match. Not to mention, he loved a party. And why wouldn't he? With the fame and the looks to match, what should he do? Sit at home and do a crossword puzzle? No way, man. He was busy loving and drinking with a fist fight or two in there just to keep from getting bored. Its a shame that he didn't live longer than he did. But as the old sentiment goes, I guess he didn't need to because he packed a lot of living into those 36 years of his. It still wasn't enough and it still doesn't make it fair. Maybe a rainy day would be the best way to remember Jack after all.

let's move

Only in Los Angeles does one wake up to a Thanksgiving morning and the sun is shining and the temperature is already 70 degrees outside. I guess I should be thankful for that, but as everyone in my life already knows, I would really be more appreciative if there was a chill in the air and some snow on the ground. Oh well. A day above ground is a good day, I guess.

So I wake up and start the day with an email check, a facebook check, and airfare check to see where I could go if I only had a job and $500 bucks in the bank to buy that airfare. Stockholm for $664? 0r should I stick with a Germany trip which probably will be about the same? How about just anywhere with snow and good food and lots of warm fruity alcohol drinks to keep me toasty? Let's do that.

I have an affinity for traveling alone. In fact, I prefer it. I can sleep as late as I want. Walk wherever I want to and change my mind as often as I feel like it. Give me a camera, or two or three and I really won't need anyone else around. In fact, that's what I want most. Just a camera and a plane ticket and I'll figure the rest out when I get there. A laptop to process and upload and I'm happy as a pig in... well, you know.

Unfortunately my traveling bones will be on the backburner for a while. At least until the spring time since I have a winter intercession class to torture my brain even further. And then a leather work class that I am most looking forward to and will rock at it since I'm dying for a creative outlet. Anything stimulating that takes me out of the boundaries of this blog, the book in my hands and the television set.

It doesn't feel like Thanksgiving, but just another 75 degrees and sunny here in Los Angeles.

the way it was

Lately, I can't help but wonder what exactly has become of me and where my life seems to be headed. When I first set out to conquer adulthood, I was very sure of myself, knew what I wanted from life and where I I wanted to go. Now it seems, like the older I get, the confidence I once had in myself and the faith that I had in my aspirations has been turned inside out and upside down. How the fuck? How the fuck did I go from loving foreign languages, Russian literature and only European actresses with strange gutteral first names to being a science wannabe?

Of course, self doubt is a natural emotion but one would hope that the older one gets, the more secure a person becomes with themselves. Some days when things are especially hard and concepts are so mindblowing I can't even read the textbook pages, I wish I could just go back. Back to working on my German and doing whatever it takes to get back across the Atlantic and to anywhere that wasn't here. How did I go from inhaling everything Swedish, German, Austrian or Swiss to being in a damned physiology classroom?

I guess its too late and I have to finish what I started this time. Stay the course.

new reads

I had to turn in that fucking copy of "The Wolves of The Calla" back to the PCC library because I could never remember to renew it online. Yeah, so I've probably racked up the cost of the book in late fees so back it went. In between the break from when I order a copy and when it arrives, I started "Garbo and Gilbert in Love" which is a fictional love story between? Garbo and Gilbert.

I was a bit over it when I found out that it wasn't a biography of them and the movies they made and the short time when they actually were "in love." Its more of a "what if" and "this is probably what happened" sort of read and I'm okay with it. Some of the things are a bit off on the Garbo side, in my humble opinion but I think the author dude totally nailed Jack Gilbert. I can really see some of that stuff happening with old John.

The more I think about it, I can't help but think what a shame it all was that these two lovelies weren't able to make a love story out of it in real life. Instead it seemed to crash and burn, as it usually does when the whoring, needy drunk actually falls in love but with the Ice Queen who has already has been through so much, her self preservation comes before mushy feelings and anything else. You gotta love these two crazies more than any of this new Hollywood bullshit. Fuck it. Hollywood isn't even Hollywood anymore. Not to me.

How to make it right? You probably couldn't but maybe it would have been better and the love would have had a chance if GG was in Sweden. Jack didn't think of that. You should have taken her back to Stockholm, John and she would have been yours. A little snow, a little native language and some family might have saved Greta and the frozen heart. And in turn, might have saved Jack from that bottle and a young death.

Certainly will be writing more about this...

rambler gothic

Feeling inspired by Those Poor Bastards, after more than a month, I have decided to blog for a few minutes. Since no one reads this fucking shit except for me, who gives a crap that its been such a long time since I've last written.

I've been to Vegas, gotten drunk, seen Jimmie Johnson win too many fucking Nascar races and done way too much studying. I'm ready to travel again. I miss Montana. I should have become a trucker. Just me and the lonesome road. I miss the snow that would be a foot deep outside of my Montana home since I'm not much of a shoveler and November is half over. I miss WEATHER and the bare branches and the winds that would toss snowflakes on each wispy breath Mother Nature exhaled from her sweet lips!

How am I going to get through this semester when everything I do and think about revolves around getting out from under the textbooks and computer to get back to living?! I want to go to Phoenix, drive back to Montana, see Las Vegas in the winter and absorb the scenery from my driver's side window as I pass through each town. What about Phoenix and the smell of the sage and wet desert at night? Yeah, I could use some of that right now. The God filled skies of Idaho through an infrared lens? Need it.

Well, lucky for myself and my furry little Banjo Eyes, he rides well in the car and I have friends and family in all four corners of these United States. Mom is in Arizona, best neighbor ever is in Montana and the sweetest girl in the world calls Indiana her home. An oil change and and fill up should get me somewhere half way between here and there.

worst blogger and shopper ever

I've been getting my ass kicked nonstop and have felt less than inspired to write. And when I'm driving down the street and an idea strikes me as being blog-worthy, lo and behold, when I sit down, the thought has completely escaped me. It must be all of the brain cells that I've been devoting to m classes. I'm burned out.

Needless to say, I'm not exactly inspired to write, just pissed off. I tried to go shopping yesterday but was utterly annoyed and turned off by just about everything I saw in the stores and shops. Lots of bad pleather, polyester and cheap silkscreening. I can't stand fake leather. I imagine that it would a whole lot worse for the environment since it doesn't last and probably takes a bunch of chemicals to produce. Blech.

I also did my hair tonight!! I went safe and chose a color from my trusty Clairol Natural Instincts collection that has never let me down. My hair is soft and shiny and will have lots of red when I'm in the sun.

Now, a wind-down with my favorite German family from "The Damned," The Essenbecks.

haircut day

Finally!

I scheduled an appointment with Peter almost five weeks ago and today is the day I get to see him. Peter is the only person who has ever cut my hair that has done it perfectly EVERY time. Well, at least since I because a totally anal, hair snob bitch who hates everyone's hair. He really is worth the price, the wait, and the drive out to Beverly Hills. Not to mention he just about the nicest and least pretentious person that walks the streets of aforementioned city.

Naturally I'm back on my long hair kick so he understands when I say "Please don't cut the bottom, I'm trying to grow it out." Instead of telling me "Well, it's uneven" or "The ends are dead," he simply says "Okay!" And REALLY doesn't touch the bottom. Already, a sign of a good hairstylist. He listens. Not to mention he takes his time and then styles my hair in about 15 minutes flat, including the blow-dry. A sign of an excellent cut. No multiple tools or products needed here, its all done with the scissors, folks.

At any rate, I'm looking forward to adding some shorter layers to lighten up the weight and to make it a bit easier to style. Not to mention something that looks good when I wake up and its a bit messy. Half the work is already done with it happens that way. I might play with the hair color just a teeny bit for my impending Vegas trip, but nothing too damaging or drastic since I plan on having it long again in a few months. Thank the Lord, for the one good gene he did give me; fast growing hair and lots of it.

Here's to all my hair dreams coming true today.

just tired

I'm not really sure how much longer I can do this school thing. At least with the math and science and moving forward with nursing. I normally try not to write about what's going on in school because I want to keep my life in nice, neat compartments. I don't like my food to touch, and I really don't like different aspects of my life spilling over into other activities. Since school at this particular juncture of my academic career is not especially joyful, I try not to think about it when I don't have to. And I certainly don't want to write about it when I'm trying to remain upbeat and positive about being in a situation that feels like its never going to end.

Unfortunately, school and this fucking physiology class are pushing me to the brink. The peas are in the cranberry sauce and I'm not really liking it. I have NEVER been more stressed in my life. You see, if I don't pass this class right here and now with at least a C grade, my whole life gets put on hold and I am screwed for another year. I can't wait anymore but I hate feeling as if my whole existence depends on one class. I am stressed to the point where I can't even get one concept straight in my head because I'm already freaking out about the forty other concepts I have to learn before three weeks are up and its time to test again.

I know its a roller coaster ride and I have to hang on, but at what expense? My health? My sanity? My self-worth and self-esteem? At the same time, if I don't do this and make it through, how do I look at myself in the mirror every day?

ready to rock

Since I've officially moved back to Los Angeles, I think I've done more shit in the last three months than I did the entire 5 or 6 years I lived here before I moved to Montana. I've busied myself with Nascar, Motorhead, trips to Vegas and lighter fare including outings with friends to the fair, The Red Lion Tavern and the movies.

I guess I don't have work to tire me out completely which also left zero time for things like cleaning and laundry so now I have more chances and the energy to be social. Now for Halloween I get to see Rob Zombie! A big "fuck you" to all those people out there that think Rob isn't cool, scary, metal, whatever. He fucking rules and I love it that I get to see him perform on Halloween. His movies are the funnest ones I've seen in a damn long time and each CD he releases is better than the last. Thanks to John for getting my ass in gear and buying the tickets otherwise I probably wouldn't be writing this right now!

I was thinking about dressing up but I'll wait until the last minute, of course. Also, I don't think I would be very comfortable walking around a fucking concert in a costume and trying to look cute while pounding beer and banging my head.

I have given in

I don't know if you could call it a submission as much as you could call it a move of necessity. You see, I only started a twitter account so I could follow my favorite nascar peeps. I was happy to find Denny Hamlin, Kenny Wallace and DeLana Harvick. Naturally I can only assume that it is actually them that is performing the actual tweet and not some personal assistant or some administrative type person at one of the sponsor companies. I guess in the long run, the internet isn't really real so who gives a shit anyway, right?

The plus side, (as if knowing what Denny is doing throughout the day isn't a plus enough), it's a good motivator for me to get my ass in gear. That way I actually have something to compare to what other people are accomplishing. I should be able to have something to tell the world, whether they're reading it or not, that I am doing this and thinking about that.

Get your ass in gear, Shelly Nick. Get it in fifth gear. And tweet about it.

reminding

I tried to post the other day but something happened and next thing I knew, there was HTML code all over my page. I just deleted it instead of trying to get everything back. Oh well, I didn't like that post anyway.

In the spirit of trying to get over my current stomach problems, let's write about all the cool shit that is yet to come! At the moment, I'm debating whether or not to buy a new pair of Frye boots to add to the collection. Yes, I have a boot collection and some boots get worn more than others while certain pairs don't get worn at all. But they're so cute, I need them and a good pair of boots will last you forever. Ask any cowboy.

Plus, Las Vegas is only three weeks away and that's always fun. If anything it gets me through certain boring times and gives me something to look forward to. I guess you could say that my life is measured by the intervals that are between Las Vegas trips. That's a pretty fair assessment. Weather permitting, I am looking forward to wearing boots and lots of leather. Sweaters and long sleeve, flowy shirts. A welcome departure from the sweating pits and black feet I get from wearing sandals in 114 degree heat all day.

Finally, I'm thoroughly enjoying be back in Los Angeles! I think I've done more this month than I did the whole two years before I moved to Montana. Motorhead, Nascar and lots of trips to the movies and the mall with Karia and John. Coming up, Rob Zombie and Halloween. And who wants to take me to see Frank Stallone? Anyone?

I need!

There's no better way to return to a blog than by naming the things I want most for the fall and winter! Of course, I am a shopping girl and not just for clothes. I love make-up, skincare, shoes and electronics. I must fit studying in there somewhere otherwise I don't feel worthy of rocking such awesome goods and wares.

One thing I am most excited about are the new Converse sneakers that I impulsively purchased with Ed at the mall. The gods must have known how great I would look in these because just as I passed the store, my head turned at just the right time and I caught sight of them. Tried on, bought and paid for in less than five minutes. It took me way longer than that to decide on which pair of Iron Maiden Vans I wanted to splurge on.

I can already picture lots of steps, strides and skips being made in these new zaps. I'm thinking leggings, sweatshirts, long tops of the plaid and jersey material type will be the perfect way to show off these babies. Nope, no long bootcut denim jeans will be covering these. Not if I can help it.


The other additions to my collection must include a leather jacket, any Kat Von D eyeshadow palette that isn't already in my makeup chest and a new pair of aviator sunglasses.

to bang or not to bang

Yes, another hair post. Yesterday, in an attempt to correct the color in my dull and ashy hair I colored it an allover rich dark brown that is exact to my natural color. Loving the color. The cut and texture? Not so much. About a week ago I had a haircut that was supposed to put some movement in my hair and alleviate the heaviness by taking some of the weight out. Well, $75 bucks later, I have a bunch of uneven layers that look like split ends and not soft, freshly cut panels in my hair. Needless to say, I immediately made an appointment with Peter to fix everything and work his magic. One word to the wise, spend the extra money and go to the person who has cut your hair before so magically that you don't mind spending $200 a couple of times a year to get it done right.

Knowing that Peter can do anything, my next dilemma is the face framing issue that now plagues me. I'm already about four or five weeks into growing out my bangs and I'm beginning to wonder, "Am I am bangs girl?" I've bangs just about my whole life and to be honest, I really feel better with them. I've had the rockabilly short baby bangs, the rounded Bettie Page bangs and the pointy devil bangs. I've also been through the long hippie bangs, the modern choppy bangs and the rocker in your eye bangs. I love them all. So now, do I continue growing out? Or cut again and go for a hot rock look? Since I have learned lessons (see above paragraph) I am going to wait patiently and talk to Peter about it in a month. Also, scrolling through websites and magazines will help me find what I'm looking for.

I need to decide by Las Vegas time in November. Perhaps a bleached skunky stripe or two will persuade me and get the hairs up on their feet.

in love again

It's no big deal, just a crush I've been carrying since I was about 19 years old... So that's about the last 12 years of my life. Ultimately, I must immortalize this beloved on my skin, right? Right. I need a Greta Garbo tattoo. A big one. One so big that it takes up my entire back or stomach complete with snowflakes, a Swedish flag and lots and lots of twirly ribbons.

I know the first time I saw Miss G was in "Grand Hotel" at the Laemmle Theaters on Sunset. I woke up super early to hit up their Garbo festival and of course, at 10 a.m. on a Saturday morning, there weren't many people there. So I had her almost, just about, all to myself. I think this is what Bob Seger was talking about when he sang "born with a face that would let her get away..."

Then when I saw her in "Conquest" at the Tuesday matinee at LACMA, that was even more surreal. When she appeared on the square screen, the audience made up of geriatrics and one-foot-in-the-gravers gasped. I mean, they literally gasped. Breaths were held and eyes didn't blink. I heard it and saw it. I seriously doubt any actress will EVER be able to ellicit that kind of response from an audience ever again. I just won't happen.

I do love her so. It pains me so that such worthless pieces of digital crap like "50 First Dates" and Olsen Twin shit stories are available on dvd but priceless celluloid movies like hers aren't. There are some missing titles from her catalog of films that aren't available at all for sale. And yes, I am waiting anxiously for those jerks at MGM to realize what they have in their vaults and release it. Or is it Ted Turner that sits upon that throne of black and white paradise?

just want to get there

I always say, "If I knew it was going to be this hard, I would have started sooner." Or picked a different career path... Every day is a bit hard for me when I'm in school. I seriously had no idea how competitive and intense it would be trying to get into a nursing program. Since I'm not entirely too sure about what I would be doing at this particular junction in my life, I guess I can't complain and nursing is as good a job as any.

I try my hardest not listen to anyone and just keep moving forward. Lately it seems like I'm having a tough time saying that this is what I was put on this earth to do because each day is such a fucking challenge. Most days I question myself as to whether or not I want to continue down this road and whether or not I have enough gas left in the tank that is my life to keep it in gear. I don't believe I'm different than everyone else but I can't help but think even if for a split second, "Is everyone else having as much trouble or experience as much self-doubt as I do?" If so, how the hell do they keep going on?...

Well, I'm hoping that there is some light at the end of the tunnel. I hope somewhere there is a nursing program especially for me. Where I won't need just one more class, or have to put my life on hold for ten years while all I really want to do is just keep living. Its like that dream that I always have where I'm running and trying to get to my destination but I just can't. All I want to do is stop running and only wake up.

my list

Inspired by Dorothy Zbornack's "Life List" I'm gonna make a list of at least 10 things I want to do before I get super old. Major stuff, stupid stuff, anything that makes me feel real. In no particular order.

1. Master the German language.
2. Have both of my arms sleeved.
3. Learn how to drive the hot rod really awesomely.
4. Be the best horseman (or woman) I can possibly be.
5. Own a German shepherd.
6. Visit Iceland.
7. Blog every day for a full year even if its about nothing.
8. Self publish a book of my photographs
9. Keep my nails manicured & free of bad cuticles & chipped polish.
10. I need to give up eating meat again.

These are really things I want to be better at or get to do. I feel like every day that goes by, I'm not living to my fullest potential but I'm not sure how to get super motivated. Talking to myself sometimes is enough, I need someone or something to keep me honest and keep me going. Maybe Jesus?

trapped

I really hate to use the above term in reference to how an animal might feel, but its sort of that "rat in a cage" feeling. Its not a good one which is probably why I despise making the connection between this physical and mental state of being, with something so precious as even a rodent.

I guess the feeling comes from my current situation of not having a job and relying on someone else for money. I've always worked and always had my own incoming flow of cash, no matter how small it might be, so it has been a difficult period of adjustment. With the disappearance of financial self-support, also goes any kind of freedom, hence the feeling of entrapment.

Not only can I not buy everything that I am used to, my traveling legs have been cut off. Buying something such as a $500 airline ticket that can carry me away half way around this earth is not even an option. In live money terms, that's a pretty good deal. You can't drive to the other end of this country and back for 500 bones let alone get on a plane and go to Europe. I should be jumping for joy and grabbing my debit card to purchase such a memory waiting to happen. Alas, no job, school only and no life. Even during the breaks I have during school...

the drink

There aren't very many people who have heard me go on an on about my desire to really and truly stop drinking. I usually only share those stories for not even a handful of my closest friends. Like all things that are bad for you, it is hard to stop. Even in the face of all the horrible things that it brings. The hangovers, the lost days, the wasted money and worst of all, whatever legal shit happens to come your way after a night of too much booze.

Granted, I have had many fun and awesome times boozing, but lately I've been really detached from anything that involves alcohol. Honestly, unless I can get totally and unequivocally drunk, drinking makes absolutely no sense to me. A glass of wine with dinner? Why would I want just one, that's lame. One beer? What's the point? The bottom line is, I don't believe people drink alcohol because they like the way it tastes, we like the way it makes us feel. Being the honest extremist that I am, having just a single drink defies all logic and goes against any rational thought. That's the God's honest truth to me. Then again, I'm pretty sure I have an addictive personality and I come from a long line of addicts.

I've noticed that as I've gotten older, my tolerance has increased but so have the ramifications of a wild night out or lonely night in. Alcohol has the total opposite effect on me than it should as it's place belongs in the "downer" category of drugs. Most human beings go home and pass out. I go home and shake and quiver all through the night. I don't sleep, my mind takes over and fear finds me in my weakest of states. I pray to God that I promise to never drink again if he helps me through the night and I take an oath moving my lips saying "this is the last time." I've had too many "last times."

So where do I go from here? Giving up alcohol is saying goodbye to my most awesomest of friends. In fact, I'm thinking "where can I buy a jug of Club Pina Colada?" right at this very moment as I type these words. That doesn't mean I'm going to go do it, it just means that when I do, I probably will go through it very quickly. Not to mention, giving up drinking isolates me from the most popular of social activities and it will mean that I am going to have to learn how to socialize all over again. In ways that are more beneficial and productive rather than dousing away what is actually a really good life.

How do I tell my friends that drinking for me is different than drinking for them? This is my life. When I go back home, its just me and I have to deal with it. No one is stroking my head, holding my hand or tucking me in to get me through the night.

new tattoo day

Just a few more hours before I'll be sitting in the chair again and getting a new piece. Its funny but I always seem to get tattooed when my bank account is at its lowest. Bad timing or just a way to pick up my spirits when I realize I'm flat broke? I don't know so I'll let you be the judge.

I had a hard time thinking about what I wanted and it wasn't for lack of ideas. I actually have tons of concepts floating around my head, its the indecisiveness which kills me. I just can't fucking decide. I had originally thought of getting a ghoulie pin up girl but went against that because in my heart of hearts, I really don't feel like I want to wear the badge of a horror geek on my arm for the rest of my life. So further into the nether regions of my soul and past I went, and came to the conclusion that I need a metal chick.

You see, I'm pretty much a rocker from way back. I went through my hippie phase, my rockabilly gig and now I've come full circle back to what I've always loved and that's the rock and roll. Blame my Uncle Carlos I guess. It will be interesting to see what Sid comes up with using heavy metal album covers and hot chicks from the 80s as his inspiration. I trust him completely.

Getting tattooed always brings up conflicting feelings for me, as well. I've never had anyone in my family other than my uncle who has been supportive of me getting tattooed. Its still a very taboo thing and I'm pretty sure my mom thinks that I'm never going to be able to find a man for the rest of my life or that I'm going to get brain damage as the result of being tattooed. So I guess I will perpetually suffer and feel like I'm doing something wrong as long as I follow this road. Its that old feeling of "When I get home I'm going to be in a world of shit." Its not a fun way to live especially since I'm 30. The bottom line is, I'm kind of an authority girl. I do respect authority and I have a reverence for following the rules. That has to be my inner German clawing to get out. I think people would be surprised to find out that I'm a pretty conservative person. I don't like going against my elders and disappointing people in my family but at the same time, I'm not going to compromise in my life. Believe me, its just a narrow victory for my independence and I feel like I should be ashamed. But I just can't goddammit. I'm gettin' tattooed.

blown away

Again. It seems like most of posts usually have something to do with whatever it is that I am listening to or watching at the moment. That's cool, I have no problem with that. I think it has been established that I am a highly visual and auditory human being. Which is why I was so entirely captivated by "Anita O'Day, Life of a Jazz Singer."

When I realized that Anita had died about two years ago back in 2006, I felt horribly. I felt like I had lost a friend and once again, that I had taken someone for granted. As usual, I felt that she would always be there and I could write her once more or perhaps come across an appearance in this wasteland of oddities that is Los Angeles. Perhaps she would have enough spunk left in that old gas tank of hers to sign her last cd or even that someone would prop her up on stage and have her snap her fingers to her old tunes like "Sweet Georgia Brown." Alas, that never happened and to make things worse, I was so wrapped up in absolutely nothing that I never even bothered to look. That's what hurts me the most.... The inaction.

At any rate, when I saw that this documentary was available on Netflix, a simple click shot it right to the top of my cue and it went right into my dvd player the day it came. Anita was awesome. She was a rock n' roller boucing around the swing and jazz worlds and sometimes those worlds bounced her pretty hard. Fifteen of those years she was addicted to heroin and I loved her more for it. Anita never let that bother her. She just kept going, after all, what else was there to do? She honestly was one of those that made me want to sing. She made me feel like I could sing because hers wasn't a voice, it was a instrument. Like a horn, or a drum, or even keys on a piano.

This film made me remember her and lately now I can't wait to listen to her music. I wish she was back. I wish I could catch that one last show, hear that one last perfectly timed chorus where she jumps in exactly where she knows she needs to be. That kind of stuff that takes decades to learn and watch how she could just do it anytime. Even when she living those high times, hard times, broke times, lonesome times, she just did it.

One thing that I will take away from those interviews and clips and remembrances, is that she made no apologies and blamed no one. "Those were the times" she says. A life lived full and lots of things to talk about and stories to tell. I wanted to hear them all. Even the heartbreaking ones that never caused even a tear or a quivering lip. That was Anita.

the difference between jam and jelly...

You're gonna have to watch "Halloween 2" to get the answer to that one. I was so pumped to finally see Rob Zombie's newest flick and without any doubt, it was the bloodiest movie he's made yet. Darker, as well. Its awesome to see because its so obvious that he has really refined his point of view. I mean, he's always had one, its just that with each movie it becomes a little more apparent and he's becoming better at how he wants to present things and what the viewers finally see. As a wannabe photographer, I love watching other people with a strong visual sense make progess and see how they communicate the visions that are in their head and bring them to life.

Even cooler was that Lori Strode's character evolved from the first Halloween to what she is in this one. Come on, if you were almost killed by some 7 foot tall fucker wearing a scary-ass mask, you'd be fucked up too. And she is. Everything from her skinny and almost junkie-like appearance to the shit hole bathroom and bedroom she calls hers. Sleeping with a Charlie Manson poster that is 7' x 5' above your bed is not normal! And I know this because for three years I had a big ass Sid and Nancy portrait above my bed and I was totally batshit. At any rate, that bitch can scream and cuss like a midwestern trucker. I love Scout Taylor-Compton and can't wait to see what else she does. Hopefully she'll pick some more hardcore shit and stay away from romantic comedies, trendy "Mean Girls" type movies or anything that doesn't involve four letter words and dead things.

doin' work

Yes, I'm a bad blogger and I really don't give a fuck. I have't blogged because I've been out livin' my life, not hanging around and writing about it on the computer.



The newest addition to my arm is a wonderful edelweiss flower that Sid really executed just perfectly. Since the edelweiss flowers I had put on my leg a few years ago haven't aged well, I thought I would just do it up right. Sid really knows color; he took a simple white flower and made it look 3 dimensional with the blues, grays and white. You don't go to Sid and ask him for a black grey tattoo. That's like riding with Richard Petty and asking him to keep it under 30. Its a waste!







So in less that 10 days I go back for more.



School has also started. The sweet Lord smiled upon me yesterday when I was allowed to add my Physiology class and it was full to capacity. Now all I need is an A and I know the Lord can help me with that too.

I want my hair back

I knew when I cut my hair earlier this year that I was going to regret it. Not right away, but that in several months I was going to want it all back. Quite impossible, I know unless I felt compelled to glue yak hair tracks into the crown section of my beautiful locks. That would never happen. That is a cheating; that is worse than having small boobs and wearing a water bra. Or those God-awful colored contacts.

So now I'm back on the hair grow out quest. I had my length all worked out and it was absolutely perfect when I cut about 12 inches off. Unfortunately, it was a bit dry from living in a moisture lacking climate like Montana, not to mention that running the heat inside dried it out considerably. I guess it was time to cut and start fresh.

My hair is my security blanket. It is my sexuality, how I see myself and my confidence all wrapped up in one physical feature. Yes, I hide behind my hair and I like it that way. I feel better about myself when its at least four inches below my shoulders and I can pull it in a pony, or just leave it and it looks perfect as it is.

Hopefully these damn Biotin vitamins will be effective and by the end of the winter it will begin to look like its former self. Or at least some incarnation thereof.

test of time

For the last day or two I have been rocking to "Girls Girls Girls" by Motley Crue, an album that I've been listening to since I was about 10 years old. That shit still gets me and every time I hear Tommy's drums, I picture him playing upside down in concert in the video for "Wild Side." It was so nuts and STILL is; in my head I always hear Jimmy Labrozzi from elementary taking about the titty guitar and how bad ass Tommy played the drums upside down. I seriously doubt any of the fags playing music today can play their shit upside down AND suspended over an audience of about 40,000 people.

Now when I listen to it I appreciate it on a whole different level and not just the rock. I know what they're talking about when Vince sings about "raising hell at The Seventh Veil," the shit strip club on Sunset across from The Guitar Center. Or even an menage a trois. I was a horny kid but had no idea about that shit, that's for sure.

Motley Crue still rocks and they will forever be one of the bands that shaped my musical tastes. Pentagrams, make-up and scary lyrics weren't a deterrent, they were the attraction.

district n9ne

Whoa. I finally got to see "District 9" and I have to say, it was a helluva lot different than the trailer made it seem. In a shitty era of "Transformers" movies and really overdone special effects, this film was just different. No overpublicized starlets or annoying teenagers in this one. Along with "Terminator Salvation," I can't wait to buy this on dvd at the end of the year. It had all of my favorite things; blood, guts, guns and understanding.

I guess the next big thing is "Inglourious Basterds" but to be honest with you, I am probably the only person that is over (actually, was never really into) Brad Pitt. Yeah, sure, he does all of these great charitable things, he is a good actor and not bad to look at, but he is a victim of overexposure and I really can't handle him anymore. Hollywood sucks and why do I keep seeing the same people in every movie? As if there are only 10 people in all of Hollywood that can act. It would be nice to see a new face, male or female... Or even a clever dog.

das boredom

So I guess things are back to normal. You know how I can tell? I'm bored, frustrated, having a few creative ideas but lack the desire to follow through. Its all the same. Now that I'm here and not going to back to Butte, that sense of adventure is no longer present; now I'm just waiting for the bras to dry to dry on the line so I will have some clean underwear.

I will workout today.

I will cut a shirt today.

I will decide on a haircolor today.... When I apply it will be a different story.

These are the three things I will do today. I did upload some photos to flickr which I had been wanting to do for sometime. I love my new infrared converted digital camera; everything looks better in infrared and for art-faggy. I really enjoy photographing subjects in b/w and it really forces you to look at things differently. With the infrared, it all comes through much more intensely and I guess, that's what I've always wanted in my photos, some kind of intensity. Especially since it is so obviously missing from my life.

flashback

Normally I only talk about this stuff with Ed or Emily and these trips down memory lane really piss me off. After watching "Intervention" tonight I felt like I could have killed eveyone on screen and it really would have been much like taking out my own family for the very same faults.

What I remember most about living with my brother and his drug addiction was my mother's denial. When that happened it meant that she turned her eyes away from what was so clear to me,it meant that she was putting my brother above everyone else in our family including herself. It meant that his ability to get high, not contribute to his family and deal drugs was more important.

Who do I blame? Should I blame my mother for allowing him to live that kind of lifestyle without any type of consequence? Should I blame my father for being an alcoholic and drinking every night of his life for the almost twenty years that I lived at home? I definitely don't blame myself for jumping ship when my parents lost their home and we ended living in a motel. I wanted out and that was the catalyst for sure. No motel for me, thank you very much.

Even after he got arrested, forced sobriety was the only way he got well. If it weren't for incarceration, he would still be going on the same way. Sober or high, he remained a selfish asshole. Remind me to tell you about the time he left me during the middle of a move into a new house because I asked him to be careful loading my boxes into the truck. I think that one is worthy of its own special entry. Oh well, blame it on the heroin, I guess.

For me, the Intervention episode was a flashback to constant arguments, sleepless nights and a double life. The life I led at home wasthe life that I hid from everyone else that resided outside of that old Woodlawn address. Is it true that you can never go home? For me, I don't want to go home. I'm far too busy creating a new one.

closer

Yes, moving forward ever so slowly but it's better than sideways. My apartment is coming along, only two more weeks until my appointment with Sid and I'm almost in with Nikko to start my left arm and backpiece.

Not to mention I am not on the road this week and Ed is so I'm not being bothered to watch porn in hotel rooms and I'm so glad not to have eat out for every single meal. I like both as much as the next gal but after a while they can be boring and flavorless. I do miss Ed though. I have no upcoming road plans but I have to get my ass in gear with finding a job so I will have more funds to roadtrip.

So what happens now? Nascar?

commitment

No, not that kind. I'm just making a promise to myself via this computer that I am going to be more dedicated to finishing my tattoos.

I started today by making a call to Nikko and spoke with his kick-ass wife, Joanne. She said that he would be most stoked to do my Hollywood portraits and that it was a welcome change from the family pictures he does most of the time. Sweet. So after hearing my ideas, she said she would talk to Nikko because it seemed like it would be right up his alley and she would like to get me in sooner rather than waiting for all eternity, okay, actually until the middle of next year. I have waited FOREVER to get my Garbo and Dietrich work done. The main reason for that is since its a portrait, I wanted to have the absolute VERY BEST artist to do it. Money is no object and since cash is temporary and shitty tattoos are forever, I'm so glad I waited. Nikko is it.

I really want Sid to finish my right arm with traditional style work since it is my favorite tattoo style and I get nonstop compliments on his stuff. Not to mention just hanging around his shop is part of the fun. And he's already been awesome about squeezing me in and basically offers me all kind of scheduling options when he's in the shop. There is something to be said about being loyal to your favorite artists!

I'm just way too excited and I know I have to start posting pictures with this blog real soon. Its not that fun without.

I'm barely out of Butte but now I wish I wasn't. I'm afraid that maybe I didn't give her enough time. Well, it's too late for regrets now and I just have to keep chasing that carrot in front of me.

Some of the stuff I am going to miss most about Butte and Montana in general.
1. the mountains
2. my little refuge of a house
3. the snow
4. quiet
5. wild ass dogs
6. everything in town is only five minutes away
7. those awesome old dudes that wear suspenders with their muscle shirts and camo pants
8. muddy pick 'em up trucks
9. Montana state mudflaps
10. just the simplicity of life there and what the place stands for

I know I will be back so I will try not to be too sentimental about it.

Some things I will not miss include:
1. not having a gym with consistent hours and equipment
2. no Jack in the Box
3. dog turds in my yard
4. not having a fenced in yard for my Banjo Eyes

So three out of four of those complaints can be fixed when I go back in two years and I can do Montana the way I wanted to do it. With lots of land and animals. No sadness.

moving forward

Okay, goodbye, Butte. I'm all packed and tomorrow we will load the rental truck and on Tuesday start the drive back. I don't know what to say and actually just thinking about leaving sort of makes me sad. During the time I've spent up here I feel as if I have grown more in one year than I've grown in the last five. At the same time, I feel like the person I thought I was maybe isn't me at all...

Driving up here, I finally got to see Temple Square in Salt Lake and it was as ass-kicking as I knew it was going to be. Mormons, architecture and lots of sun. Everyone was perfectly Godly, as I expected, and naturally I felt out of place. I took awesome photos which will follow once my computer is hooked up normally at my house. I am no stranger to the Lord and love my fellow Christians as much as the next woman, but something about five thousand Mormons in a two block radius can be a bit intimidating.

I just really want to get home to my dogs and I hope Butte will forgive me if I miss her from afar.

on the road again

This is the week that I am going to try and pull a cross country move out of my ass. Well, it's not exactly a "cross country" move, but 1200 miles isn't exactly something to scoff at. If I can pack all of my gear and load it in three days, I will be my new hero.

Most importantly, the sooner I finish, the sooner I get to go back home to my dogs! Banjo escaped today and now feelings of uneasiness and uncertainty are all around me. Perhaps a good thing, a sign that I should never have children for fear of being completely paralyzed by the inability to live my life because I'm so worried about the youngun's. Oh, and Banjo safely returned his own little self to the confines of our yard once he heard the tinking of dry dog food against his metal food bowl.

Tomorrow I will arrive in Butte and it already feels like I never left. Hopefully I will find my little house and all of my worldly possesions in the same state.

I'm ready to rock and roll back to L.A. with a renewed perspective and some good photos from the road.

foiled again!

Okay, so since I've promised myself that I want to start seizing the day by the balls, what happens? I get sick! Not even totally and completely mindblowing sick, just sick enough to keep from what I want to do and with the possibility of becoming even sicker if I venture out of the house. I knew this was going to happen because I woke up not feeling very well on Thursday and by Friday, I had the body aches.

I guess it was okay because I got to read a bit more and I'm just about finished with "Bag of Bones" by Stephen King. I'm not sure what I'm going to read next but I do plan on hitting up the Goodwill once I get back to Butte. They always have the best book selection and since I'm not going to be living there anymore, maybe the thrift store book gods will smile upon me and bless me with one last big score. I'm hoping to be on the next title before we hit the road this Wednesday. Since I brought "Middlesex" with me, I guess I will just go with that one.

Tomorrow is a semi big day. I need to hit the mall for some things including a new makeup brush set and a few fun shirts for the nights we will spending in Las Vegas on our way up and then back down from Montana.

a bust...

Hmmm... What was supposed to be an exciting day sort turned into a big dump. Plans to go to Magic Mountain were unfulfilled but I did my best to salvage what was left of the day. John and I ended up hitting the Whiskey Bend for happy hour Coors bottles and some much needed catching up. I hadn't seen him in almost a month and that means I have tons of Simpsons quotes and random unsavory humor bottled up and just waiting to explode much like a shaken up can of soda pop. We didn't get to see "Bruno" do to our last minute planning but maybe that will happen over the weekend.

I am determined to take advantage of every day from now on especially since I have so much to be grateful for and loads to be looking forward to! My list of things to take photos of before I leave Los Angeles includes the Hollywood Sign, Chinatown and downtown L.A.

ready to be done

Today is my last day of summer school and my brain is cooked. I think it must be the heat...

Now I can look forward to playing with cameras, watching the one hundred hours of programming I've amassed on my tivo and picking my next book from the stacks of novels I have in my bedroom corner. Not to mention the drive back to Montana to load up my stuff, say goodbye to Butte and the few people I've met there and then hit the road again. And back to the City of Angels.

The list new waits now includes the Fall 2009 school semester, a tattoo appointment with Sid and Vegas sometime with Emily before the year ends! This life rules!