I'm up in the middle of the night, after a lovely evening with K. We made stuffed mushrooms and tried to fill the misery of Rock of Love Bus not being on the TV tonight, because of the Oscars.

This video is one of the cutest things I've seen lately.

I'm feeling good again.

It felt really good to unload all of that. The cockroaches, actually, have been absent this morning, perhaps the extermination effort did work.

I took the rats home today after, I'm so glad they're back with me. Getting that cage in the car was...a lot. But echoed by the amusing satisfaction of walking around carrying a giant cage of rats. There are exactly two.

I have been reading Vice's mental illness issue. Should have known this might be a mistake. What started out as funny and validating became, wow, I'm a circus animal to these bastard hipsters. Then I relaxed and realized...ah, silly me, it's Vice, a little is great and funny and all that, and too much and I get queasy.

I am tired, but somehow sleep is difficult.

The Group Home photos were especially depressing. There's something about...okay, where in the DSM-IV or where else does it say crazy people like collages? Is it just lazy caretaker art therapy? Sorry, no crayons for you!

And then the really annoying part about being in the psych ward and being told to make a collage is they won't give you scissors. Of course not, a pen is a big deal. It's all about wet and tear.

There's something validating about looking up bad tattoos and clown tattoos.

Is there something here about the desire to feel better than/worse than someone? Perhaps.

That felt really good. Really good. I was looking back over this and realized that a few entries ago I was on bliss farm. It's called Ativan. It's a great medication. Every month I run out of it, and the real weight (I can't bring myself to say weight of the world, It's the CalArts talking) I don't know, I crash really badly and hear voices for a bit and get really cranky. This time I accidentally took too many when I was going to my grandmother's funeral, which involved a lot of extended parent time, including a 10 hour car ride with them on the way back home.

Here's a few others for the list, it's really satisfying to complain right now, and I'm awake, so why not. These are more trivial. They are also less obvious. Wow, that's obvious.

1. Blogs with ads all over the sidebars.

2. The fact that my mental health office is so overwhelmed that they have 400 people and two psychiatrists, so I see him for 10 minutes every 2-4 months. During which time he throws pills at me (thanks!!!) and is notably absent if they backfire.

3. The fact that I'm so overwhelmed by living (and the clutter in my apartment, which is getting really gross) and a number of other things that it's immobilizing, and instead I pop pills and complain.

4. Lights going out in my apartment. Wow, it's darker. And I wonder why I can't/don't read books anymore and instead read internettery obsessively.

5. I was thinking about all of this overwhelmed feeling, my difficulty with cleaning or sometimes leaving my apartment, and traced some of it back to my parent's impossibly high expectations of me. From youth through high school, I excelled, gifted program, lala, straight As, won awards, driven, all that, blew it out early, and then I went to college and had a nervous breakdown. All that schizophrenia and bipolar in the family, that has popped up all over since, came bursting out. Now, a decade later, I've actually accomplished some of the big things I wanted to do, but somehow for them it's not enough.

My father's father (schizophrenic) used to sit him on his knee and say, "don't end up like me, get an education, get ahead in life." And so he'll sit down and check off how many children of our generation have doctorates. It was his big dream to have his daughters get married, have kids, get PhDs, have great jobs, etc.. etc...

Well, I'm never going to do those things. There would be absolutely no point to me getting in more student loan debt. I'm fundamentally unemployable. I don't play well in groups. The economy is in free-fall. I barely made it through my masters. I'm done.

Anyway, he projects onto me his wishes and expectations for the life he wanted me to have, and he's a good and kind man and all that, but...it's so unrealistic. My mother, too, she's great, but she has this whole idea for how I was supposed to turn out, and I didn't. And they love reminding me of how I'm failing.

Anyway, Ativan is great. It really helped me get through that car ride. Thinking about my parents expectations is really depressing. I should probably save it for therapy. But wait...I'm not in therapy.

For some reason I've had a lot of trouble getting myself to sit down and write. Anything. To the point that I feel ridiculous calling myself a writer. It feels so pretentious, really, but it's a nicer catch-all identity than eccentric deadbeat who has given up on life and needs a kick in the ass to... to... do any number of things. Finally today I sat down and made a list of things that had been bothering me that felt so obvious they were not recognizable to someone.

WTF???

1. Obviously...Scientology is a creepy cult! I went walking in Hollywood today, and, like anywhere else in LA, there was a giant, ridiculously opulent Scientology building.

2. O...hai, i'z in yr list.

3. Obviously...private student loans, I'm the wrong person to prop up your collapsing economy, I have a degenerative brain disorder. I'm mentally ill. I don't know where that money is going to come from. This one because I realize now that it's become my hobby, getting mouthy and overly personal with student loan people, namely those that call about the ridiculously desperate private loan I took out to go to CalArts. The federal people, bless-em, have this wonderful ability to defer endlessly, but this bank...wow, you only have a year's deferment...wow, I have to fill out a form that explains how it's all going to change in a year...I owe you ungodly thousands of dollars...DEGENERATIVE BRAIN DISORDER!!! It makes me feel like one of those lonely elderly people that get all excited when someone calls them, and then get all chatty with the telemarketers. It's in fact, very much the same. But, in a sense, I don't know what else to say. This brings up all these issues of making bipolar disorder my identity...my mother would say "leaning on it." But, then again, I'm on disability, I'm living on a very tight budget right now, and, really, I feel amazingly lucky that I still have my apartment, I will live on crackers to keep it, but, WTF CITIBANK???

Oh, by the way, thanks for the amazing education. I now plan to sit on it and let my brain turn to slush.

4. Obviously...website + rats (does not equal) small business. It used to be amusing when I got these sales calls. It's not anymore. No, I don't want to promote my small business. No, my employees don't need anything. They eat birdseed. Okay.

5. Obviously...guy that chased us off that mall-ish courtyard by the Kodak theatre today. No, I'm not impressed by you sticking your face in the fountain. Please stop chasing me. This sort of shenanigans makes me so glad that I'm the sort of orderly mentally ill person that does not harass strangers on the street. Take away my funding and the vault of pills...might get there. I love making idle threats to the internet.

6. Obviously...Seagrams has all the gross vodka flavors. Wild grape? Espresso? (this is sort of like caffeinated Cisco...danger) Blackberry? Is Nyquil far behind? Did you play tennis with the guy from Smirnoff and lose?

7. Obviously...Tegretol is not helpful. I'm not making foolish manic decisions, but it's yet another Faustian bargain, of taking it before I go to bed and waking up in cold sweats of four foot tall cockroaches chasing me as I vomit sardines and wake up in a sweater dress caked with my own feces, only to wake up again and realize...yes, this happens every time I take it before bed... Or, alternately, taking it in the midafternoon and feeling like I've been lobotomized and being socially retarded for the rest of the evening, only to realize, well, it's an anticonvulsant, so if I go off of it, I'll have seizures. Fantastic.

8. Obviously...cockroach problem is not eliminated.

Well, apparently the manic hysteria has gotten to new heights. Yesterday I had a dream about bleaching my hair blonde. well, as I have poor impulse control/it's cheaper than a tattoo/why the hell not...I did. It came out pretty well, it needs another bleaching, but I'm pretty pleased with it.

And also..K discovered this amazing link that I would like to share.

CORNIFY

This will make unicorns and rainbows, sparkly happy superfunicorns appear all over your computer. The internet's number one source for unicorns and rainbows!!!

I can die now!!!! It's just all so sparkly fun and full of blonde unicorns and..
(takes meds...sigh..um...okay)

Wow. I think someone had a little bit to drink last night. I think that someone would be me. Oh well. I am now very excited by this video-blogging thing. It's way more embarrassing than real blogging. The fact remains, though, that there needs to be content, and all of this silliness is kind of an excuse for real content.

I have been fiddling about with post labels and administrative whatnot. The endlessly self-referential navel-gaving belief that anyone reads this motivates me to say this. As far as I know, Jason M. and Katie J. read this, and no one else. Say hi, if you're out there.

I'm going to make a few more changes in the next few days, as soon as we put music on the Cherry Ames myspace. We are playing a show this Friday, and I am SO EXCITED.

What I really need to do is work on the new project, and work on resizing the images for the poetry book.

Question of the week...why do leggings wear out on the knees first?

 The rabbit just took a chunk of calloused toe-flesh out of my foot.

Then it munched with relish.

Then it winked at me.

Oh dear, oh dear.

Okay, so I am at Katie's today, and she just got a pet bunny. This is the cutest thing ever.




I was going to cook it (Joy of Cooking has a great recipe), but then Katie said she'd donate my rats to Science. On Burbank Blvd. So then we wrote this song, which I have yet to write a keyboard part for, but oh well.

Rhymes with science


/Verse 1/ (K)
There’s a building on Burbank Blvd.
Where all the science is kept
It’s big and white and imposing
With a drop-off box to the left.

/Chorus 1/ (K)
You tell the rats I’m going to donate them to science
Donate them to science
They’ll be hooked to an appliance
(repeat)

/Verse 2/ (A)
Inside there’s lots of beakers
For testing blood and make-up
And though the bunny doesn’t know it
That’s where he will end up.

/Chorus 2/ (A)
You tell Lil Rhody I’m going to donate him to science
Donate him to science
In an act of cold defiance.
(repeat)

/Verse 3/ (K)
Although it’s made for science
There’s lots of room for cute
And although my girlfriend doesn’t know it.
She’s going down that chute.

/Chorus 3/ (K)
You tell Andrea I’m going to donate her to science
Donate her to science
To improve her self reliance.
(repeat)

/Verse 4/ (A)
Your health is quite assured.
With all the pets and ladies
Because there’s so much science
Just look out for Katie

So, a bunch of odd yet funny things have happened lately.

First, I woke up the other morning to a cockroach in my ear. I don't know where it came from...my brain, the curtain, the sky? The ceiling? The pillow? Katie!! No, I don't know.

I screamed, and it went flying off into the ether, and threw the pillows around, and goodbye.

the other night I woke up to hear little children chanting

"Gang bang, go away, come again some other day"

Then some adult-type began shushing them. I'm not really sure if I imagined this, but I was in my between-dream awake state, waiting for the leg spasm that would send me back into dreamland.

Jonathan - Katie wanted me to add that you're funny. Yes, I agree.

And what else...I guess we're going camping soon.

Now that all of the Christmas fooferaw (kerfuffle?) is over, I am working on new projects.




Cherry Ames Army Nurse is preparing for our first show...a drag party at a friend's apartment. We must put noses to the grindstone, as Cherry would say.

In addition, Katie and I are working on a collaborative, polyvocal novel in shifting forms that illustrates the shifting nature from fan to stalker to friend...as well as a lady-love story. I am very excited to be working with her, her poetic and rhetorical abilities are entrancing.

The list form plays a major part in this work, this is the backbone to the relationship building, like a fishscale, like feather-shreds of supposition.

I would include a list here, but the latest ones are a bit obscene.

I ate a goat and I liked it....
taste of it's meaty goatflesh.


Om nom nom nom.


Coley's Jamaican restaurant on Magnolia has the most sublime curried goat. I urge you to try it.

Cherry Ames is back,now with electric guitar.

The most recent song involves protest chants.

What do we want?
Cops in shorts!
When do we want it?
Now!

It's a few days until Christmas, and I'm in San Diego with my parents. It's 6:40 am, and I'm awake, the rats, even, are sleeping. I brought them down here, the cage bumping around in the backseat, as finding a rat-sitter in LA at Christmastime was a difficult proposition.

Oh. I just announced I wasn't in my apartment. If anyone wants to break in, watch out for the cockroaches, they may have opposable thumbs by now, in fact, they may have a manifesto by now, and they are ORGANIZED.

I like to anthropomorphize things. I also like to coddle my rats until they look at me with those little beady eyes and say "put me back in my cage now, I'm bored, and there, there are walnuts."

Strange times. Interesting times. I went in a Mervyns that was going out of business a few days ago, and it looked like a riot was taking place.

The empire is falling. Taste the fruits of empire while you can. Before it's all gone gone gone.

I did a tarot reading this morning and drew the tower, crossed by the ten of swords.

If you would like to contribute to the fundraising for my poetry book, Lorazepam and the Valley of Skin, Extrapolations on Los Angeles, J.S. Davis of valeveil  is holding a fundraiser involving poetry in the streets of Stockholm.

http://www.valeveil.se/en/support.html

thanks!

A fabulous day is today. I am sitting with my dear darling Katie, and we just had band practice. We are gong to a reading tonight. Oh joy.

I just spent a week in San Diego and Reno learning about yurts, stew, and how many rats is a lot to deal with.

I am happily medicated. On D-listed, they refer to the Britney Spears tour as the "Don't be A'scared, Ahs on mah meds" tour.
Think of this as the "Don'd be a'feared, I'm on mah meds too!!! except I'm not going anywhere.


today is a day of leather and pink cupcake costumes. I awoke thinking of prosciutto cupcakes, and now I am one.

So, I am starting a new writing project. Details to follow.

Cherry Ames Army Nurse is coming along swimmingly! Here is our myspace.

And we made those sailor outfits all by ourselves...with just a lick and a promise.  They are much more modest than the one pictured here.

Life is sweet. Katie is especially sweet. I am having holiday neurosis, but, then again, this is normal.

Okay, the first rule in compulsive overshare is dreams.

The Sarah Palin mania (for all that I voted for obama) was triggered by a dream involving her and...ice cubes. Y'all can let your dirty mind work on that one.

However, I had an especially poignant dream last night, actually, two.

I dreamed that I had a pack of tarot cards and could make so much more sense of the world with their guidance.

This involved some hovering around my room with images from the major arcana blazing from my desk lamp and walls. (much like this Sprawl flyer)

Then I had this very sad dream about looking for a halloween costume in my grandmother's basement and mistakenly finding a dress worn by an young woman at Manzanar, the japanese internment camp which we recently visited. This was highly disturbing. For some reason I was compulsed to put it on, pale yellow with black trim, it fit perfectly, including the hat.


I started to cry.

I don't know if this is my fear of getting hospitalized on Friday, or the ache that comes from a poisonous reminder of human cruelty.

We are starting a band called Cherry Ames, Army Nurse. Songs include:

• What would Cherry Ames do?
• Symptoms
• Panties and pills
• Pro-Mia at the Noho Starbucks
  
• That's a lot of rat to deal with
  
• Sarah Palin extravaganza

wish us luck!

This is just too adorable. katie and I as student and teacher. I swear, I'm only taller than her in heels!!!