a period of about eight months

“Writing is a demanding profession and a selfish one. And because it is selfish and demanding, because it is compulsive and exacting, I didn’t embrace it, I succumbed to it.

In the beginning, there was a period of about eight months when nothing happened. My diet consisted chiefly of black coffee and fingernails. I collected forty rejection slips in a row.

On a writer’s way up, he meets a lot of people and in some rare cases there’s a person along the way, who happens to be around just when they’re needed. Perhaps just a moment of professional advice, or a boost to the ego when it’s been bent, cracked and pushed into the ground.

Blanche Gaines was that person for me. I signed with her agency in 1950. Blanche kept me on a year, before I made my first sale. The sale came with trumpets and cheers. I don’t think that feeling will ever come again. The first sale—that’s the one that comes with magic.”

~ Rod Serling

Seek and ye shall find.

CARPENTER JESUS HAS RESPONDED TO THE FACEBOOK MESSAGE.

Wake me up.

I wait I wait so patiently 
I'm as quiet as a cup 
I hope you'll come and rattle me 
Quick! Come wake me up.

 

Sugar babe

My dreams came true!!!!

http://www.dlisted.com/2012/11/21/open-post-co-hosted-colin-farrell-and-white-horse

why i didn't apply for that position in LA

http://www.vice.com/read/reasons-why-los-angeles-is-the-worst-place-ever?utm_source=vicefbus

Carpenter Jesus

I had a gig last Sunday at an art festival/art studio tour thing my city does every year. After the gig I finally had the chance to get out and see the art.

I took tons of the artists' business cards b/c I have no money to buy 100s of dollars of work, but maybe someday or for something I can buy something of my favorite artist's online. BLIND OPTIMISM.

The last studio we went to was a huge, open, wood, metal warehouse setting. it was so interesting. all these machines and chains and ironworks and boards of prized trees to make things with.
I was browsing, causing a ruckus.  At the end of the front area I saw a table with cutting boards, chess boards, driftwood sculptures, cherry, oak, maple woods. And behind that table I saw Carpenter Jesus. I say Jesus b/c he was the most beautiful carpenter Jesus has made since Joseph. He is the hottest carpenter that God has ever given to the world. The "Jesus" qualifies his epic status.

He had a STRONG similarity to our favorite carpenter in pop culture: Aidan Shaw.

Source: bing.com via Iris on Pinterest

Same hair and body type and same hippie, sexy, earthy mansome vibe. He had large, muscular carpenter hands. hawt.
His hair was really dark, almost black. His eyes were a piercing blue-green.  He had freckles but they were all equally distributed and complimented every inch of his 6'4'' ness.
He had sexy arm tattoos that peeked out of his pearl-snap, vintage cowboy shirt. and of course he had a 5 o'clock shadow.

I complimented his work.  He said thanks, that he was ready for this to be the last day of the two weekend 4 day art fest. I then mentioned how I was happy I could finally see the art, since the other days I was performing during the crawl time. And then the real talking happened.

Carpenter Jesus: Oh ... (suddenly interested) you're in a band?
Girl in love with Carpenter Jesus: Ya.
CJ: What do you play?
GILWCJ: Uh, i play my voice.
CJ: Oh, well I'm sure you have a beautiful voice because -
GILWCJ: (interrupts CJ) Because of my face right? (smart ass smiling face)
CJ: (pause, laugh) Actually I was going to say because of your beautiful eyes.
GILWCJ: (permanent blushing for rest of conversation).

so we exchange facebook page info???????? this is what it's come to, folks.
I "liked" his page.
but i've yet to send him my page to like. b/c I was hoping he would just friend me.
but I think i'm putting this in the "whoring his product out w/ sex" "baby mama", "live-in girlfriend", "just not that into you" categories.
BUT one more page request before i give up, of course!!! ;)

my friend informed me over gchat:
my friend:  hehe

i thought i saw him driving a pedicab this weekend

so

maybe that's a deal breaker

heh

me:  WHATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

his vagrant lifestyle makes me want him more.

Universe is smoking crack.

so many men i've gone on dates w/ appeared yesterday. this town is too fucking small. add that to a reason to move. 

these all happened in a single day, yet never happen normally. that's why i'm sharing it in the sharing circle this week. what is the universe doin? 

smokin' crack.

1 - past date's current gf/fiance(?) on the street. she is cray-cray and wants to cut me, exchanged bitch faces. i endured this at a friend's wedding. flashback wayne's world style, y'all.

2 - saw guy i dated twice and ended horrendously playing at his best friend's house (which happens to be 2 doors down from me [wtf!!!]) on way back from video store. yes i still rent dvds. they aren't all on netflix.

3 - creeper texted me, i have no idea why. he texts me every 10 days like a creeper would do. i don't respond, but he keeps doing it. so fucking weird.

4. IMOM keeps looking at my linkedin. what a horrible feature by the way. i know he's looking at my social network, professional networks but he can't bring himself to speak to me? oy vey. he also wrote a thanksgiving day piece for a local publication lamenting how he had no one to be with on thanksgiving day and how hard it is to not be in the motherland on a holiday such as thanksgiving.:

"If it hadn’t been for those intrepid pilgrims and the friendly Indians who helped them survive their first winter, I’d never have had my American adventure in the first place: never learned how to make proper margaritas; never driven a cerulean Mustang with the windows rolled down toward a vermilion sun balanced on the horizon; never had my socks blown off by those spirited beauties only fashioned in America."

GLAD I COULD HELP.

So - that is FOUR things in one weekend. this town is too damn small yo

it's the single girl life i guess.

 ALSO - all these people popping up - NO CARPENTER, NO JESUS CARPENTER

oh --------

i just realized dear readers i've yet to tell you the tale of the Carpenter Jesus. Next post.....

nigella lawson steaks and coconut rice

http://www.npr.org/2011/02/14/133682028/nigellas-do-it-yourself-valentines-dinner-date

I want to be NIGELLA LAWSON when i grow up. The coconut rice sounds AMAZING.

spent the afternoon listening to her sensually talk about food. it's like verbal food porn.

Why everyone i date is a freak or loser *proof*

this is the state of the male in the 21st century.

Louie C.K. on true love (season 2, episode 6)

“Pamela, I’m in love with you. Yeah, it’s that bad. You’re so beautiful to me. Shut up! Lemme tell you. Let me. Every time I look at your face or even remember it, it wrecks me - and the way you are with me - and you’re just fun and you shit all over me and you make fun of me and you’re real. I don’t have enough time in any day to think about you enough. I feel like I’m going to live a thousand years cause that’s how long it’s gonna take me to have one thought about you which is that I’m crazy about you, Pamela. I don’t wanna be with anybody else. I don’t. I really don’t. I don’t think about women anymore. I think about you. I had a dream the other night that you and I were on a train. We were on this train and you were holding my hand. That’s the whole dream. You were holding my hand and I felt you holding my hand. I woke up and I couldn't believe it wasn't real. I’m sick in love with you, Pamela. It’s like a condition. It’s like polio. I feel like I’m gonna die if I can’t be with you. And I can’t be with you. So I’m gonna die - and I don’t care cause I was brought into existence to know you and that’s enough. The idea that you would want me back it’s like greedy.”


― Louis C.K.

random thoughts of late

1. I love Louie C.K. (comedian and show).  I have a cerebral/writer's crush on him. 
2. I like working on my writing projects more than working out
3. that's why this week i only worked out once
4. I really liked the new James Bond movie, Skyfall. James Bond is still the most MANSOME man ever. and timelessly sexy of course! 
5. I hope Israel and Palestine stop bombing each other. (i realize everyone feels the same and has forever)
6. I'm a writer
7. I love my best friends
8. Simple things only grow more enjoyable w/ age: sleeping in, kissing, tea, diy face masks, flying home for the holidays to see the family you only see twice a year
9. I got my hair cut short again. Men don't really like this. My roommate and my other roommate's boyfriend do, but they don't count.
10. Usually really interesting men like women w/ short hair. But those aren't the men i encounter when going out to bars on weekends.
11. Yet the men at my gigs like my hair???
12. So i can only conclude artistic men like women with short hair???
13. Still don't know.
14. Still don't really care.
15. I love myself with short hair! In an odd, deeply self centered way, I feel more myself with short hair. It's SASSY and different.
16. No matter how much weight i lose my boobs will always be huge.
17. I'm not complaining, but i don't always like it.
18. I'll probably get breast cancer one day and look back at this and want to slap myself really hard.
19. Funny men always win over hot men. Hot men are nice for a month. Funny men are good for AT LEAST a year.
20. My dating life is insanely comically tragic. Like one big black comedy. I fantasize about writing a blog or tumblr about it, but fear the men i leave in my wake will see it and seek revenge.
21. Dating in your 20s is SO. WEIRD.
22. I wish i could de-friend all my exes from my Facebook. But i want to "win the game" and not act immaturely - cuz we all know when you de-friend you become the bitter one. UGH. and it's not that I'm bitter I just HATE THEIR FACES AND NEVER WANT TO SEE THEM AGAIN.
23. except for one. and you know who you are. i think you read this sometimes, so please don't de-friend me for that last thought. i'm glad we're fb friends!!!
24. FB posts are growing INCREASINGLY unbearable lately. i don't wanna know about your marriage, babies, husbands or other horrible decisions you made for yourself far too early on in your life. Why? WHY? Best case scenario is you love each other and one of you eventually dies. Death is the best result. Also, babies terrify me. 50% OF MARRIAGES END IN DIVORCE.
25. i play in a band and it gives me great joy.
26. The bartender at our latest gig is the fake love of my life. sooooo hawt. sooooooo aloof. sooooooo hawt.
27. i love that riding my bike is my main mode of transport and i hope this last my entire life
28. i wish i was Lena Dunham.
29. I don't think i wanna turn 25. I may just have a 2nd 24th birthday.

ahhhhh i am as cynical now as LOUIS CK!!!

It's not fun to be single at 41. I was married for ten years. I'm divorced, I've got two children. It's hard to start again after a marriage. It's hard to really, like, look at somebody and go "Hey, maybe something nice will happen."

You just don't.

I know too much about life to have any optimism because I know even if it's nice it's going to lead to shit. I know that if you smile at somebody and they smile back, you've just decided that something shitty is going to happen.

You might have a nice couple of dates, but then she'll stop calling you back and that'll feel shitty. 

Or, you'll date for a long time and then she'll have sex with one of your friends, or you will with one of hers, and that'll be shitty.

Or, you'll get married and it won't work out, and you'll get divorced and split your friends and money, and that's horrible. 

Or, you'll meet the perfect person who you love infinitely, and you even argue well, and you grow together, and you have children, and then you get old together. And then she's gonna' die.

STORY OF MY LIFE.

Or does Eartha fall in love with herself?

you can hold for a minute.

No one
has lots of them
Lays or friends or anything
That can make a little light in all
that darkness
There is a cigarette you can
hold for a minute
In your weak mouth
And then the light goes out,
Rival, honey, friend
And then you stub it out.

Jack Spicer, 1957

Well this is just stunning ....

original post here:
http://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_posts/3242955-the-poet-at-seventeen---larry-levis

The Poet at Seventeen

My youth? I hear it mostly in the long, volleyingEchoes of billiards in the pool halls whereI spent it all, extravagantly, believingMy delicate touch on a cue would last for years.
Outside the vineyards vanished under  rain,And the trees held still or seemed to hold their breathWhen the men I worked with, pruning orchards, sangTheir lost songs: Amapola; La Paloma;
Jalisco; No Te Rajues—the corny tunesTheir sons would just as soon forget, at recess,Where they lounged apart in small groups of their own.Still, even when they laughed, they laughed in Spanish.
I hated high school then, & on weekends droveA tractor through the widowed fields. It was so boringI memorized poems above the engine’s monotone.Sometimes whole days slipped past without my noticing.
And birds of all kinds flew in front of me then.I learned to tell them apart by their empty squabblings,The slightest change in plumage, or the inflectionOf a call. And why not admit it? I was happy
Then. I believed in no one. I had the kindOf solitude the world usually allowsOnly to kings and criminals who are extinct,Who disdain this world, & who rot, corrupt & shallow
As fields I disced: I turned up the same grayEarth for years. Still, the land made a glum raisinEach autumn, & made that little hell of days—The vines must have seemed like cages to the Mexicans
Who were paid seven cents a tray for the grapesThey picked. Inside the vines it was hot, & spidersStrummed their emptiness. Black Widow, Daddy Longlegs,The vine canes whipped our faces. None of us cared.
And the girls I tried to talk to after classSailed by, then each night lay enthroned in my bed,With nothing on but the jewels of their embarrassment.Eyes, lips, dreams. No one. The sky & the road.
A life like that? It seemed to go one forever—Reading poems in school, then driving a stuttering tractorWarm afternoons, then billiards on blue OctoberNights. The thick stars. But mostly now I remember
The trees, wearing their mysterious yellow sullennessLike party dresses. And parties I didn’t attend.And then the first ice hung like spider latticesOr the embroideries of Great Aunt No One,
And then the first dark entering the trees—And inside, adults with their cocktails before dinner,The way they always seemed afraid of something,And sat so rigidly, although the land was theirs.
                                                                            --Larry Levis, from his collection WINTER STARS                                        

"Your friend is a disgusting vile commoner creature."

Has anyone been watching "Gallery Girls"?

This shit is out of control. It's the 1% people porn.

Here are some OUT OF CONTROL quotes from the show:

http://www.vulture.com/2012/10/twenty-most-ridiculous-lines-from-gallery-girls.html

Here's an episode on HULU:
http://www.hulu.com/watch/416979#i0,p0,s1,d0

GIRLS

where my money goes....

i make no money.

but the money i do make goes to concerts, booze, and food; in that order.

i love my life.

from the top of the flight, of the wide, white stairs

Source: Uploaded by user via Savannah on Pinterest

from the top of the flight
of the wide, white stairs
through the rest of my life
do you wait for me there?

there's a bell in my ears
there's a wide white roar
drop a bell down the stairs
hear it fall forevermore

drop a bell off of the dock
blot it out in the sea
drowning mute as a rock;
sounding mutiny

Source: standingelements.tumblr.com via Savannah on Pinterest

there's a light in the wings, hits this system of strings
from the side while they swing;
see the wires, the wires, the wires

Source: kvelv.tumblr.com via Savannah on Pinterest

and the articulation
in our elbows and knees
makes us buckle as we couple in endless increase
as the audience admires

Source: tiredofbull.tumblr.com via Savannah on Pinterest

and the little white dove
made with love, made with love:
made with glue, and a glove, and some pliers

swings a low sickle arc
from its perch in the dark:
settle down
settle down my desire

and the moment I slept I was swept up in a terrible tremor
though no longer bereft, how I shook!
and I couldn't remember

then the furthermost shake drove a murdering stake in
and cleft me right down through my center
and I shouldn't say so, but I know that it was then, or never

push me back into a tree
bind my buttons with salt
fill my long ears with bees
praying: please, please, please
love, you ought not!
no you ought not!

Source: surreyhills.org via Savannah on Pinterest

then the system of strings tugs on the tip of my wings
(cut from cardboard and old magazines)
makes me warble and rise like a sparrow
and in the place where I stood, there is a circle of wood
a cord or two, which you chop and you stack in your barrow

it is terribly good to carry water and chop wood
streaked with soot, heavy booted and wild-eyed
as I crash through the rafters
and the ropes and pulleys trail after
and the holiest belfry burns sky-high

Source: fuckyeahunitedstates.tumblr.com via Savannah on Pinterest

then the slow lip of fire moves across the prairie with precision
while, somewhere, with your pliers and glue you make your first incision
and in a moment of almost-unbearable vision
doubled over with the hunger of lions
"hold me close," cooed the dove
who was stuffed now with sawdust and diamonds

I wanted to say: why the long face?
sparrow, perch and play songs of long face
burro, buck and bray songs of long face!
sing: I will swallow your sadness and eat your cold clay
just to lift your long face

Source: dreamyourselfalong.tumblr.com via Savannah on Pinterest

and though it may be madness, I will take to the grave
your precious longface
and though our bones they may break, and our souls separate
- why the long face?
and though our bodies recoil from the grip of the soil
- why the long face?

in the trough of the waves
which are pawing like dogs
pitch we, pale-faced and grave
as I write in my log

then I hear a noise from the hull
seven days out to sea
and it is the damnable bell!

and it tolls - well, I believe, that it tolls - for me!
it tolls for me!

though my wrists and my waist seemed so easy to break
still, my dear, I would have walked you to the very edge of the water
and they will recognise all the lines of your face
in the face of the daughter of the daughter of my daughter

Source: tumblr.com via Savannah on Pinterest

Source: honestly-wtf.tumblr.com via Savannah on Pinterest

Source: searchcheaphotelsnow.com via Savannah on Pinterest

darling, we will be fine, but what was yours and mine
appears to be a sandcastle that the gibbering wave takes
but if it's all just the same, then will you say my name:
say my name in the morning, so I know when the wave breaks?

Source: foxyflowerchild.tumblr.com via Savannah on Pinterest

I wasn't born of a whistle or milked from a thistle at twilight
no, I was all horns and thorns, sprung out fully formed, knock-kneed and upright
so: enough of this terror
we deserve to know light
and grow evermore lighter and lighter
you would have seen me through
but I could not undo that desire

oh, desire...

from the top of the flight
of the wide, white stairs
through the rest of my life
do you wait for me there?

Source: Uploaded by user via Savannah on Pinterest

Dear HTSP:

From this summer - recently found in diary
Dear HTSP,

So .... When the hell are you getting here?

I keep on going on dates that seem to go nowhere. Lots of them. I never get past the third date because they are predictable and I am now jaded. My old rule of "three strikes you're out" no longer applies and it appears I have dropped that down to one strike.

I really don't want to have to come to you. I want you to come to me. I've never chased and I don't intend on starting now.

What's up w/ men not wanting to chase anymore? I'm sure if you met me, you'd enjoying chasing me. I am a fun chase. Promise. Promesa.

I could be a Muse.  I would be a GREAT muse.  I've read all the biographical books on them: Lee Miller, Camille Claudel, Jean Rhys, Anais Nin, Francoise Gilot!!!!  I'm up on what I would need to do.  I've read the rules. I know the game plan. Just come to my door with a bottle of Rioja or Malbec - I'm ready, I swear.

But what if you never find me?  Will I act on my deadline (age 35) and spend a summer in a villa in Barcelona and find you?  What then?  As I said, I don't chase so this would be an exceptional circumstance.

You have to promise to recite poetry to me. And leave love notes on post-its everywhere - the fridge, the bathroom mirror, my walk-in closet, even the front door if you're feeling courageous.

If  - When - you paint me, paint me in purple or lilac or magenta.  Something that's warm and looks like it's on fire.  That way I'll know how you really feel about me.

Our children will be covered in dirt and paint at all times.  They will run about our Andalusian/Argentinian/Montevideo/Catalan backyard as if it is the only paradise they ever knew.  They will ask for a pet until they wear us down and we will give in.  Don't worry I will walk it. Promesa.

I want our children to have Spanish names. And like 25 names each.  Like those famous monarchs from ages ago, that when their names were pronounced, you had to sit there for twenty minutes just for them to finish pronouncing all the hundreds of beautiful syllables.

Anyways - this was just a little push. In your general direction.

Love,

Your Lover

the PHD w/ the HTSP

#FBMusings

"i think that is a good idea. i would TOTALLY get a phd in the things i'm interested in - ALAS those include art history, archaeology, and creative writing. So the plan is to meet the millionaire HTSP (hot tempered spanish painter) and have him SHARE in my aspirations w/ me. I'M RIDICULOUS."

I'm a wildwood flower Waving for you Broadcasting tower Waving for you

If you're driving into town
With a dark cloud above you
Dial in the number
Who's bound to love you

Oh honey you turn me on
I'm a radio
I'm a country station
I'm a little bit corny
I'm a wildwood flower
Waving for you
Broadcasting tower
Waving for you

And I'm sending you out
This signal here
I hope you can pick it up
Loud and clear

I know you don't like weak women
You get bored so quick
And you don't like strong women
'Cause they're hip to your tricks

It's been dirty for dirty
Down the line
But you know
I come when you whistle
When you're loving and kind

But if you've got too many doubts
If there's no good reception for me
Then tune me out, 'cause honey
Who needs the static
It hurts the head
And you wind up cracking
And the day goes dismal
From "Breakfast Barney"
To the sign-off prayer
What a sorry face you get to wear

I'm going to tell you again now
If you're still listening there
If you're driving into town
With a dark cloud above you
Dial in the number
Who's bound to love you

If you're lying on the beach
With the transistor going
Kick off the sand cause honey
The love's still flowing

If your head says forget it
But your heart's still smoking
Call me at the station
The lines are open

What other guy knows you like that?

I know what you look like in the morning
Your kisses are soft and warm
I can draw you with my eyes closed
See you with nothing on but the radio
I know how many years of French you took
Your favorite movies, your favorite books
I know what really gets you going… glowing

I know where you go with your beautiful friends
I know what you taste like when the night ends

I know the kind of thing that makes you laugh
The way you tilt your head for a photograph
What other guy knows you like that?

And I can name the first guy you ever kissed
I can name the perfume on your wrist
What other guy knows you like that?

Oh, Anne
Oh, Anne

I know what you want by what you're wearing
The kind of night you're preparing
I know what your hands do when you're kissing
Your number one and number two favorite positions
I know how your skin glistens… listen

I know where you go with your beautiful friends
I know what you taste like when the night ends

I know the kind of thing that makes you laugh
The way you tilt your head for a photograph
What other guy knows you like that?

And I can name the first guy you ever kissed
I can name the perfume on your wrist
What other guy knows you like that?

Oh, Anne
Oh, Anne
Oh, Anne
Oh, Anne

I know where you go with your beautiful friends
Yes I know what you taste like when the night ends

I know the kind of thing that makes you laugh
The way you tilt your head for a photograph
What other guy knows you like that?

And I can name the first guy you ever kissed
I can name the perfume on your wrist
What other guy knows you like that?

Oh, Anne
Oh, Anne
Oh, Anne
Oh, Anne