Pink

Everything is really Hot Pink and a little rushed, lately. This site I've been working on for like 3 months goes live in 2 days, I can't think of much else.

Also: I'm sewing and perfecting an aesthetic I refer to as "Early Eighties Step MILF". Which is like, the best of all worlds. It's totally ready to go to the disco but also? Super responsible. And there's some comfy cozy built in that says it's OK to get dressed up just to stay home and make cupcakes. That's actually a great idea.

I love cupcakes.

Happy Monday. I missed you.

A Little of This, A Little of That

My only regrets from last night are a few ill-advised sleazy text messages and the fact that I spilled a taco on my white jeans on the taxi ride home.

Also I guess technically speaking, fashion-wise, I shouldn't have even WORN those fucking pants last night, since it's Autumn and all. So make that three things I regret.

Nothing else though. I don't regret getting free champagne all night, cause everyone loves the door girl. And I don't regret lingering over the tattooed hands of cute hipster boys as I took their money. And I don't regret the awesome fucking bass-heavy rap throwbacks we listened to all night long. And I definitely don't regret slipping away to the little counting area and sifting through all of that dough.

It's a dirty job, but infinitely satisfying because the smell and texture of money is like catnip to me. I get high and kind of hypnotize myself, counting everything and putting it in rubber bands and writing stuff down. It's a ritual that brings in all of my senses and I love that. I love almost anything like that.

I've wanted a horse for like, forever. But more than a horse I want a tack room, and the smells and sounds that go with all of that heavy duty leather.

I'm checking work email and it looks like I have a loooong day ahead of me tomorrow. So I'm working on a jacket that's been scaring me away in the past and preparing for that, today.

Plus watching more cartoons.

The Freshmaker

Okay so yesterday morning I got to work at 9, and left at 9 at night. I got home at 9:15 and then left again at 9:30 so I could be at the club by 9:45. I left the club at 1:30, a little worse for the wear.

Some nice man helped me get a cab, one of the promoter's friends. Plus I was blessed. Not only did my cabbie let me smoke, he offered me a light. Chivalry is like, the hottest look to me.

When I got home I ate a nectarine. That much I remember, cause it was delicious. I made it to bed but barely, I woke up at 5 AM with a horrible headache and only one boot on. I was so tired I fell asleep in the middle of taking my boots off. Seriously.

Is that endearing? Or just kind of sad?

Today I'm asking very little of me. I'm not checking my email or answering my phone most of the time, unless it's my besty or my fam. I'm only concentrating on a cute outfit for tonight's party, cause I'm working again.

And waiting patiently for the Japanese place to start delivering so I can order a bunch of delicious stuff and eat it in my pajamas like Hugh Hefner.

Plus watching cartoons. And thinking of the next dress I'll make.





The girl at the store ensured me bamboo knit doesn't shrink. I was so jazzed at the softness of it I bought like 4 yards and went home to start a little green dress that same night. I finished it Thursday, and washed it Friday morning before work so it would be all smooth and fresh.

Kay I'm like 10 minutes late for leaving my house for work and in the laundry room getting my dress out of the dryer. I've been running around in tights for about 30 minutes and to me there's nothing better than putting something on fresh out of the dryer so I grab it and slip it on in like 5 seconds flat.

And find that it's about 5 inches shorter than it was when I finished sewing it.

My dress is now a shirt. Or if it is still a dress it's the kind I can ONLY wear to a hipster event where everyone's so busy looking at their tight pants outline in reflective surfaces that they don't bother to notice they can see my panties every time I reach up to adjust my necklace.

Buzzkill, you know?

I wore it anyway. With jeans at work and with tights at the club. But it's just not the same so I have to take another crack at it.

So yeah. Today I'm thinking about that, and Japanese food, and not much else. Plus taking lots of naps. Today is the Freshmaker.

Happy Saturday. This car gives me tingles.

All the World's a Stage

I took my old boss out to Momo's tonight for her birthday. We had a blast and I drank 3 glasses of Prosecco but on the way home I got into an argument with some boy about how materialistic I am and now I'm spent. I'm done defending my dreams.

I defend my day to day like, every day. Tooth and nail, and it's why I get up every morning. So my dreams are sacred territory. I get whatever the fuck I want in them, you know? That space should remain uncontested. I hate anyone putting a ceiling on my sky.

So fuck them if they don't understand.



I might have to go to LA tomorrow for work. A last minute thing, and normally I'd be jazzed cause it's kinda glamorous. Except that I work Friday night until 1:30 AM and getting on a plane 5 hours later is like the opposite of a good time for me. A 6 AM flight is like my kryptonite.

But I do wish that my whole life was photo and video shoots. I'd get spoiled on craft services and fill my memories with pretty and interesting people in great outfits.



Imagine a professional crew to light every moment of your life. Casting you in the softest beams, lending drama where needed and downplaying the shit you don't want seen. And a stylist to keep you fresh. And a director to keep you interesting.

Action.

Gotta Seven Series and a New Pea Coat

I am sprung on Asher Roth. I know. I shouldn't be. But his marketing is a confusing combination of WASP/grimy that kinda gives me a tingle. So sue me.

Plus he's sharp and funny.

Way Out Here

We wrapped last night at 8, and I was halfway to my mom's house. Best practices meant finishing the trip to come and see her. We smoked a joint and talked about a lot of stuff. I went to bed way too late.

This morning I've been enjoying the silence and privacy of way out here. I went outside in these filmy little harem pants and a t-shirt, sat on my bumper in the sunshine, and enjoyed a morning smoke with the bitter old kitten that lives on the road. She was meowing to herself and rolling around in the warm gravel. I think she is a crazy old lady cat in a tiny kitten body. I relate.

This song in my head today. It feels like faith and lovely results. I'd like to light some incense, put this on, and make you a pie from scratch.



Happy Saturday.

I'm In Between But Way More Fresher

Okay so what you do when you are a stylist on a photo or video shoot is that you get some info from a client and then you go shopping and buy a gang of shit. Clothing, shoes, accessories. Thousands of dollars worth of shit. And you put all of it on your credit card.

And then you show it to your client. You maybe have fittings, where you dress the talent up in the outfits you've picked out and the client goes, "I like that. I don't like that." And you make adjustments and decisions. And then you have your outfits.

But you've bought way more than you need. So then you have to return everything that isn't part of an outfit you are using for the project.

Note: If your budget is big enough you can make a deal with a large store, basically rent a gang of shit and don't pay a dime walking out. But you agree to buy at least 20% of it, so either way they make a killing.

But usually you have to return everything that you didn't use on the set. And stores don't like that much. So you have to play it off like you're not a stylist, or working for one. Or whatever.

But I'm skipping. Ahead.

I'm away from home. Not very far at all, just staying out East for a shoot for this project I'm working on. And the budget is really small, so I agreed to assist the stylists cause I thought once upon a time that I might like to do that.

Pro: getting paid to be fresh
Pro: meeting a bunch of cute people, sometimes famous
Con: really? politics?
Con: getting treated like a rookie til you get your fame

Today I decided I'm not into it. There's this huge pecking order and I am nobody's bottom of the totem pole. Ew.

Plus there are the returns.

That was my job today. I went to a gang of stores in this empty ass town returning clothes to people and waiting patiently while they counted and sorted handbags, shoes, jewelry, hosiery, outerwear, pants, tops and dresses.

And in the end? No richer. No smarter. But a way better liar.

Since I was returning so much stuff I had to make up stories. For some people it was a one word answer, with others there was so much stuff that I had to drag it out. The farthest I got was that I'm a personal assistant to some rich trophy wife who makes a great martini but is really really bored. So she goes out shopping, buys gangs of shit, takes it home to try on for her husband and then gives me whatever he doesn't like. I return it.

Oh and. Sometimes she buys him stuff too, and when that doesn't work out I return that as well.

Blazing hot in this town today. I'm quietly hoping for something really exciting and good to happen. Wish me luck.


Oh and PS:

In any situation, if you have the choice between being a Furley or a Roper. ALWAYS opt for Furley. Always. No one wants anyone giving them the business about their loud parties. And everyone loves a swinger with a collection of fly shirts.

I'm just saying. These are our daily options. We owe it to the whole wide world to choose wisely.

Fair Exchange vs. Robbery

Oh. My head. I think I need to go back to sleep but first some memories. From me to you.

I spent a huge amount of time last night just waiting. I played Galaga on my phone, smoked a joint and made small talk. I was sitting in the stuffiest hallway ever at the top of a rickety staircase in the Gold Fronts building.

I spent my evening with these young blooms of Spring. The party crowd was not at all my type but the owner of the venue and his friends. Oh, honey. So scrappy and fast-talking! So stylish! I loved them all, sweet young things.

Of course and especially the owner, whose sneakers were so pristine they fairly gleamed in the dusty hallways. I wanted to cupcake him.



Instead I did my fucking job. Security was a little shaky but there was always some boy around somewhere who had my back, and we only had to get rid of one dude. As the night wore on patrons got more and more sketchy. I got less and less patient explaining to people how it was my whole job to fucking charge them, not have discussions about what time it was and whether or not I should ask for a cover.

I wanted to get back to Galaga, most of the time. Or some lighthearted conversation with some young city boy in a fresh baseball cap. Anything but haggling with cokeheads.

But that is how an all night party goes. I got a cab pretty quickly at dawn and got home in time for infomercials and one last joint, and Japanese food and sleeping with no dreams at all. Too tired to dream. Aint that a bitch.

I'm gonna take another crack at it now. Happy Sunday.

Double Vision

It's hot in Frisco today. There was an earthquake last night.

I dreamed I had 2 sisters and we all slept in a bed by the ocean. I was mostly concerned with whether or not I'd ever get my down comforter clean again, once we headed back inside. Meanwhile there was a bear stalking us, and this dude ever trying to whisk me away to safety but I kept thinking maybe the bear wasn't so bad after all.

There were horses, too. I needed sugar cubes for them but all I had was loose sugar.

The greatest gift anyone could make me would be some program where I could input shit like this and over the course of time, map out my soul. It would be like a video game when the whole thing was completed, telling my future based on some complex system of probabilities assembled by sifting through every little detail and making a Big Picture.

Surely there is someone working on this already. Surely he or she is my soulmate.

I'm working tonight, and the party goes til 6 AM. Today is spent preparing a bullet-proof outfit that I'm willing to be chipper and charming in for 9 hours straight. Plus smoking little rizla joints and getting my act together. Heh.

The good news is that I've spent my whole existence preparing for this kind of life, so I'm in good shape.

Happy Saturday. Keep your bearings.

This House Just Aint No Home

How I know that I am in a state is that I got a sack earlier. Drove all the way across town to meet some boy in a parking lot in Hunter's Point. He was in my car for 5 minutes and we hugged before saying goodbye.

Then the whole drive home I was distracted by the smell of his cologne.

The last time I made out with a boy I wore my little dress to bed because it was scented like him. I dreamed him all night and woke up sprung.

Doesn't matter either way. I'm impressionable. So impress me, you know?

I guess that I am boy crazy. Now and always. I'm either crazy about a bunch of boys or crazy for one boy. Beyond reason. But not beyond self-preservation. Which is how I can stand here before you and speak on it.

Are you following? Or am I getting too flowery and rambling? I am trying to be poetic about a thing that is very base.

Fact is that I probably just need to get laid, then I will quit all of this fantasizing and acting like I'm deep. Then I will be back to business, as fresh as ever.

But the whole process of that. Finding someone to fuck, or even to play Scrabble with me on my couch. So treach! So trifling! So tiresome! I'd rather do my budgets and schedules.

And oh. I have so many of those. Advertising has seasons, and this is the busiest season of the year. I could work 12 hour days every day and still not get everything done. I do. And I don't. And that kind of turns me on, too.

So doing work makes sense. Even when I'm getting hung up on the smell of the herbsman's cologne. I'm thinking. Could be worse. Instead of doing spreadsheets and longing for a snuggle, I could be trying to make spiritual sense of some dude I met at a fucking nightclub. Ha.

As if.

None of that. I'll know when I'm ready. And it's not now. I can hold out a little while longer.

Laters. TGIF.

All I Need in This Life of Sin

Just getting home from work, can you believe that?

You should. I'm deadly serious about all of this shit. I work until I couldn't possibly work any longer. And then I work some more, just to be sure I beat out the competition.

Blah. Like it matters! Like anyone is keeping score on shit like that. Ha.

And oh. I had to say goodbye indefinitely to two of my favorite people today. It made me sad and wishful. Maudlin.

I should leave this city. I should start off somewhere far away and brand new.

Gnight.

Yesterday morning I had a bolt of inspiration. I texted Lydia and it worked out perfectly cause she was free, and we went to Stinson beach. She is fierce, and brought a bottle of champagne in her camera bag. We bought cheeseburgers to go with it and had everything in a picnic in the sand.

We were wearing more clothes than anyone else on the beach. Like: full on outfits with skirts and tights and belts and little shoes. But we had a massive blanket and kept it pretty cushy, with the cocktails and all.

Today I'm working some more, I have all of this stuff that needs to be done when I show up tomorrow morning, so that means on Labor Day I have to actually. You know. Labor.

I'm bummed I don't wanna put my white jeans away.