Welcome to Paradise

I dreamed last night that I was planning a trip to the Burj Al Arab with my fantasy date. We were talking about the bedrooms and the aquarium and the golden bathtubs.

I woke up this morning to my grandfather's blue shirt and paisley tie. My outfit for work. Charming, but not nearly as charming as a twenty thousand dollar top floor suite.

Good day.

Yeah I Might Be Trippin But I Feel Terrific

So tonight after like 4 shots of Patron with my comrades. I'm thinking. Well. ANYONE is lovely if you catch them from the right angle. That's actually pretty common.

Shocking to find that I'm more interested in the true tests of romantic love these days. The idea of seeing someone beyond all of the veils. Beyond their Representative. Sick, or untrusting, or angry. Vicious. Seeing someone through a moment like that and right back into the bright circles that we maintain for the people we are really down for. Seeing someone through those unattractive moments and back into the golden glow again.

I think that is what love is.

Not that I would know. Not that I've ever seen anything like that.

But it's so easy to point out, from over here.

In other news:



Yeah I should not love Wayne. He's childish and self-destructive and prone to busting out vocoder stylings, which you know I hate.

But there is something very honest and articulate about him. So I am enamored.

Drunk as fuck Imma go to sleep now.

Night.

Wants vs. Needs

I *want* a mural connecting the two big windows in my living room.

Better yet, I *want* three hundred and sixty degrees.

I *want* access.

*********

I spent the last two weekends trying to make a dress. I can totally see this dress in my head. And I can make it out perfectly while I'm cutting out the fabric for it. Which I've done like three times now.

But when I sew it. Oh my. Everything goes wrong. The material is slippery and stretchy, and gets all askew in the machine. So all of my perfect measuring and cutting. Twice now. Has ended up with me balling up the whole fucking thing and throwing it across the room with a disgusted look on my face.

Then I twist one and I'm all. "Sorry for yelling."

And I try again.

I try again. Remember that about me.

Third time is the charm.

*********

In the interest of prioritizing I decided one morning a couple of weeks ago that my main wish is for work that I love for loads of cash. Because I'd never ever stop working, you know? I *need* to make something all of the time.

Then I took it one step further and decided that I already HAVE work that I love for loads of cash. And that seemed to do the trick.

Stupid key card wearing a hole in my pocket. You will not wear a hole in my soul.

**********

I would thrill you with dating stories, but there are not many and they are all top secret, anyways.

Happy Monday. I took a pause but I think I'm back again.

Fever

My cab driver last night was from Sudan. He told me about the Burj Al Arab hotel, which is rated 8 fucking stars and has a massive aquarium restaurant that you travel to in a fake submarine like you're going underwater. I looked it up just now and it's in Dubai and I can't go there and fuck on the beach but how much would I love to go there and take 2-hour baths? Very much.

My Goodness. Could I possibly ever experience everything that I want?

The cabbie asked me if I was good at saving money. I laughed. He said that was okay though, that I should just live it up. He assured me, everything's going to be alright.

I worked last night, and it was pretty awesome. All of these sexy people showed up, and I was dressed like Dorothy Dandridge. I got randomly cheek kissed more than I have a right to and by the end of the night, seriously, I just wanted a culmination to all of the teasing.

Counting money gets me all worked up.



The fever broke eventually, and I passed out fully clothed in my little black riding hood, fishnets and ruby slippers. This morning I woke up with the biggest hangover in recent memory. I drank water until my hands ached from holding the cold glass and passed back out. I had an epic post-fever dream.

My apartment was my apartment now except there was an extra room in it. These dudes were painting it without my permission but when I checked it out I loved what they had done. I started entertaining solely in that room, which featured a massive stuffed gorilla (the plushy kind, not the dead animal kind) that hung out on this awesome chaise lounge big enough for 3 people and fantastic lighting settings. A bunch of colors linked to a dial on the wall that played on the new artwork my uninvited friends had created plus shadows from the sunlight dancing outside.

During my hostessing I had to run a bunch of errands. There happened to be this really awesome store nearby that sold all kinds of prepared food plus toys PLUS clothes PLUS fantastic pastries. I went there many times with my male escort, and I have no idea who he was except that he insisted on answering my door for me and almost turned away this one dude who'd come by just to share champagne with us.

I corrected my bodyguard and let homeboy in.

The end.



And this afternoon I have post-party loathing from drinking too much, I need to solve that with Mexican food and a trip to the fabric store, stat.

Happy Saturday. Believe your eyes AND your dreams.

I Am Everything That Is Anything

Meanwhile, Kurupt is soothing my soul and exposing me to a different kind of I'm OK You're OK. Pete Rock is all over this one, it's a throwback but not really. That lilting piano is the Bob Ross of hip hop tracks.

And there are the lyrics.

The sky's the limit
It's in my arm's reach
So I'mma reach as far as my arms reach

Now that's gangsta...

I learned this new definition as well, hanging out with my father for the first time. How it's not always like it is in the movies, it's not all guns and fights and gunfights and stacks of dough. Sometimes it's small daily acts of rebellion and survival. Like even getting the fuck out of bed. Like letting yourself wake up from a dream. Like feeding your family. Like doing time silently. Like existing.

How we live, strive, breathe, talk and fuck only within the parameters allowed by our various dispositions. We'll never love or work or achieve anything different from the quality of our character. And so on.

Maybe I'm just feeling expansive cause it's a 3-day weekend. Within my humble existence, something like this is major. Even if I spend it thrift shopping with my sister. Even if I go no more than an hour away.

But I visited the future yesterday. I can't even tell you details, except to say that people are making really mind-blowing fucking technology right now y'all. Shit straight out of movies. I want to be involved in that.

But first. I'm gonna do my toenails.

Happy independence weekend.

Do Ya Thang

Cube gives us words to live by. This morning I woke up, noticed this hole in the pocket of my jeans where I keep the stupid card I use to get into work. My life is wearing on me.

Also, as long as we're thinking about NWA:




I'm okay with this yelling kind of delivery. Aggro rap with a background that seems like it wants you to go crazy. Whatever. I like.

Pretty Picture: