Ooh LaLa

Tonight I'll board a bus that takes me to a train that takes me to the BART that takes me to San Francisco. Tomorrow night I fly back to Los Angeles.

With each visit home my heart beats faster upon arrival, the magic of San Francisco comes into sharper focus and I dream about moving back. And yet, there are days like today, when the sun is shining bright and the smog is light and not a cloud is in sight and I wonder, are you trying to woo me LaLa? My love life continues to be complicated. Two cities, multiple personalities and no idea about anything other than the beauty of life. Every moment is a gift.

The cafe is quiet, the possibilities are endless, the next few weeks will determine the next few years of my life. Go back to school? Go back to San Francisco? Settle for a bit in LA? Or none of the above!? Will this lunar new year bring good fortune? Love? Art? A puppy??? The shrinkage of some bills... ?

Elliott Smith croons to me:

Drink up, baby, stay up all night
The things you could do, you won't but you might
The potential you'll be that you'll never see
The promises you'll only make
Drink up with me now and forget all about
The pressure of days, do what I say
And I'll make you okay and drive them away
The images stuck in your head
People you've been before that you don't want around anymore
That push and shove and won't bend to your will
I'll keep them still
Drink up, baby, look at the stars
I'll kiss you again between the bars
Where I'm seeing you there with your hands in the air
Waiting to finally be caught
Drink up one more time and I'll make you mine
Keep you apart, deep in my heart
Separate from the rest, where I like you the best
And keep the things you forgot
The people you've been before that you don't want around anymore
That push and shove and won't bend to your will
I'll keep them still

First Night Out

Last night was the end of another long day of job hunting and interviews. Feeling discouraged and exhausted I walked out to my car to head home and found a papery little treat under the wiper.  My first parking ticket.  Too drained to cry and too poor to even begin to think about paying it, I stuffed it in my purse and drove home in a daze.

Trying to keep my chin up I decided a little distraction would do me good, so I took my roommate up on the offer to go out with him.  His friend Lily was playing a final show with her band at The Echo, so I tagged along for what turned out to be the perfect medicine.

We started the evening at The Gold Room where I sipped soda water (due to my weak stomach) and surprisingly ran into a couple of friends of mine! Seeing someone from San Francisco right here in my neighborhood bar totally brightened my mood and gave me the sense of being at home.  After the bar we headed to the venue where we saw three bands. Lily, the lead singer of "Lily and the Ladies" was fantastic and "the Ladies" rocked out. I'm not one to critique music, not really my field of expertise but I will say the whole night was loud, fun, visual and highly entertaining.  The crowd was made up of what appeared to be the Hipster scene on steroids, the hottest and coolest looking chicks you've ever seen and the skinniest boys in the tightest pants.  The fashion, for the most part, was similar to the Mission sensibility but amped way up. 

All of my roommate's friends were totally welcoming and fun and they were all interesting and accomplished people who seemed to have a million different jobs and artistic endeavors.  Overall the night gave me a break from stress, it gave me a nice big dose of fun and it gave me the first taste of my local nightlife.  Once again I'm grateful to have landed in the neighborhood I did, I'm so stoked that I hit the jackpot with my roommies and I can't wait to continue to explore all LA has to offer.  So far so good, sippin' on a coconut Italian soda and gearing up for another job interview.  After that, the beach. Good, free fun and a little nap in the sun.  I think I can do this.

Non Sequitur or the Saturday 2-for-1!

Part I:  The Sun Goes Down

In school I always doodled in the margins.  Since I moved from California to Virginia when I was five, it was easy to idealize the West Coast and my drawings often reflected that which I was "robbed of".  I yearned for the Pacific Ocean because I didn’t have it and I perfected my sketches of palm trees associating the cliché symbol with the magical place I felt I was meant to be in.  I wanted to live where the palm trees lived.

Later in the middle of my high school years, we did come back, but of course getting what you want isn’t always what you think it will be.  Just like coming closer to an impressionist work, the image changes and change can be ugly.  Some native Californians I’ve met resent the palm trees because they, in fact, are non-native species.  They are an ugly cliché just like the symbols I used to sketch and they just don’t belong.

As the sun goes down on another hot day in LA I stand on my balcony and enjoy something else as cliché as “long walks on the beach”.  I enjoy a beautiful sunset that no picture can capture and no words can describe.  Peeking up among the buildings are scattered palm trees and as I look at them my heart opens and softens like the pink light all around us.

We may not belong here, we may be loved by some and resented by others but we’re here.  We are all here together for whatever reason and we are all native to Earth.  Hot and tired I enjoy one of nature’s beautiful offerings with the palm trees as my fellow audience members.  The sky is on fire and a moving painting is being created in front of us, more inspiring than anything I have to offer and absolutely free.  It may be cliché but I’m grateful that my breath has been taken away tonight on this balcony.  Maybe one day I’ll have something as lovely to offer to someone too.

Part II: After Dark

It’s 3:19am and I’m awakened by the smell of smoke.  I look around to see where it might be coming from and realize it’s arrived on the slight breeze that finally makes the temperature bearable.  Southern California is burning and I’m being cooked alive.  San Francisco seems like a distant, little heaven.  Dolores Park a lush green oasis and here I am in the smoggy city of [fallen] angels breathing in the smoke and pollution.  But I have to be here.  Too much of a good place can lull me to a dreaming sleep and this dramatic setting is starting to wake me up…

In the meantime, I’m also kept awake by thoughts of my newest guilty pleasure, the British Comedy “Pulling”.  Finally, I’ve had time to watch some (Internet) TV and it’s been pretty damn great!

Unemployment = Finishing “MadMen”, gorging on “30 Rock” and completing seasons 1 and 2 of “Pulling”.

This show is a brilliant dark comedy that has been called “the anti-Sex and the City” and the “anti-Friends” and it is both.  The story focuses on the life of 30-year-old Donna, her radical quest for happiness in a humdrum life and the heart-breakingly tragic ups and downs of her two best friends Karen and Louise.  The three women end up living together and trying to figure out what they want from life and how to get it, helping and hurting each other along the way.

The comedy is the darkest, the plot lines are heavy and the characters are extremely human.  I found myself laughing out loud throughout the entire 12 episodes and already dying to find out more.  I’m completely drawn in.

Another reason to love the show is that the actress playing Donna is also co-creator and writer, Sharon Horgan.  Much like Tina Fey and “30 Rock”, Horgan seems to pull from her life experience and is carefully carving a new place for the female lead in our collective imagination.  Her lead is not a wife or mother, not an ingénue or merely the counterpart to some man, she is a courageous and yet deeply flawed, narcissistic and yet loveable, female anti-hero.

Now, this isn’t to say that the show is overtly Feminist or that there isn’t also a male writer/creator involved, a male love interest character and other ridiculous (but hilarious) portrayals of women.  But what inspires me is the fact that another high profile, female writer-actor is telling a story and acting it out too!  This is exactly the kind of career I fantasize about and I’m just happy to see it becoming a possibility, at least for some!

I don’t want perfect in my characters, I want interesting and funny and complex!  Donna, Karen and Louise possess these qualities among many others and they aren’t anorexic, twig-figures either.  They’re real looking women with interesting bodies and faces and they’re all wonderful actors.  I don’t know where you can get these DVDs, (I borrowed them from my new roommate) but if you can find them, check out the show!  You won’t be disappointed.

No More Room

Friday morning was my last in San Francisco. When I left for Santa Fe earlier last week I didn't have to feel sad.  Although, only for one night, I knew I would be back in my city and since all of my belongings were waiting for me in Potrero Hill I felt like I was coming home as usual.

Thursday night, I munched on pineapple and jalapeno pizza, sipped a can of Tecate and tried to get a good night's sleep. In the morning Lissy and I had another goodbye breakfast at Boogaloos (you can never get enough of that biscuit with vegetarian gravy) and headed back up to her house for the dreaded car-loading.

Since the poor girl is completely incapacitated at the moment, due to some serious back problems, the loading was up to me and me alone.

Box by box I brought my things down to the curb and worked on stuffing it all into the Honda. The sun was shining and the huge drops of sweat dripping off my head, neck and chest splashed against the cardboard and milk-crates full of books, notebooks, pictures and art supplies. I squished in bedding, clothes, shoes, toiletries and other odds and ends around the edges and I even managed to arrange about nine canvases throughout car, in various nooks.  

I had already gotten rid of all of my furniture (and have been sleeping on a floor for the past two weeks, might I add...) but I still had two bulky items to worry about. The blue bike and the blue guitar. No way in hell could I part with either, at least not yet, so I stubbornly found a way to get them both in. A few hours and a bunch of bruises later the task was complete. 

Covered in a crust of dry sweat and bike grease, I hugged Lissy goodbye and climbed into my temporary, moving home. With a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, I made my way down to Santa Cruz to see my sis. Blasting some tunes and singing at the top of my lungs I felt a rush of excitement and freedom!

This is the movie of my life, here I am setting myself free, following my dreams, taking a chance, going on an adventure! Moving alone for the first time ever! Doing my thing! Plunging into the unknown! Here I go!  

I pull up to Nish's house, get to see her for a bit before she has to head to work and then I'm left alone. The sun I had driven down in has been covered by a thick layer of fog, I haven't eaten in hours and I'm starting to come down, way down and fast.

I'm alone, I walk to the Whole Foods nearby, I feel a pain in my stomach and chest and immediately start dialing all my friends. Nobody answers. I leave messages. I stand around the Whole Foods parking lot and stare at the grey sky. I want to cry but mostly just feel annoyed and confused. Low blood sugar? My mom calls and I get snappy and we get into a little fight. This sucks! This is not my big, exciting, fun moment! Where's my soundtrack? Hello???

I go into the store and buy some crappy Indian food from the buffet and a Kombucha. When I get back to Nish's house her roommates are all hanging around eating so I decide to stop moping and join them.

As the food makes it's way into my system and the conversation starts to flow I feel much better. Everyone wants to know about my journey and why I'm going to LA. I begin to give my usual modest answer, "time for a change of scenery, I have some friends down there, bla, bla, bla..." and then somehow the truth comes out, "I'm moving for my acting".

Everyone is full of questions and instead of feeling nervous or uncomfortable I realize, I have nothing to lose! I am moving to get closer to more acting opportunities. In fact, I am moving to do the thing I love most in the world, or to at least try to do it! I'm moving to do something I'm good at and something I understand and something I believe in and I need to start believing in myself. If I don't believe in me, then what's the point?    

The mopey brain-fog has lifted, I am more than ready to jump and fall, or roll, or find out I can fly, or realize I'm a kangaroo, or whatever!  There's no more room in the car and there's no more room for fear. I will ride the waves of emotion as they come and ain't it good to be riding! 

Monday I drive down to LA. I have very little money, a beat-up car named Henry, a few boxes, a blue bike and a blue guitar but best of all I have imagination and determination. Although I secretly wish I had a sword or something, I suppose a pen will have to do for now.  Here goes nothing, and everything!

Cue soundtrack music, please.

The Bomb

Sitting in the window of my temporary Potrero Hill home I see my city humming and glowing below. Just like sitting under the stars can be soothing for some, looking down on the world from a hilltop is my favorite way to clear my mind. Things aren't going exactly as planned, but when do they ever? A major chunk of my savings had to be used ahead of schedule but at least I had it and now I'm back to the usual: Broke in terms of money but rich in terms of life. Life is beautiful and life is an adventure. If there weren't trees to climb and rivers to cross I couldn't pretend to be Indiana Jones. I mean, what fun would that be?

Ever since I could read, books have been saving my life and once again Henry has come through. So many times the printed words of others have illuminated my experience as if they were writing just for me. It makes me feel like everything's OK. Right now I'm reading "Tropic of Capricorn". Here's a thought for the day: "Things take place instantaneously, but there's a long process to be gone through first. What you get when something happens is only the explosion, and the second before that spark. But everything happens according to law-and with the full consent and collaboration of the whole cosmos. Before I could get up and explode the bomb had to be properly prepared, properly primed. After putting things in order for the bastards up above I had to be taken down from my high horse, had to be kicked around like a football, had to be stepped on, squelched, humiliated, fettered, manacled, made impotent as a jellyfish." - Henry Miller, Tropic of Capricorn.

I dig it.

The Beginning

Some days the shit hits the fan (or runs down the staircase, as it were).
Yesterday was one of those days.

Yesterday was my last day to move out.

Yesterday I owed people large amounts of money and other people owed me large amounts of money too. Yesterday a good friend got fired and another got a raise. Yesterday I carried all my belongings out of my second story apartment and into my temporary two week four story apartment. Yesterday my ass got a workout.

Yesterday I had crackers with peanut butter for dinner. Yesterday a sick little dog wandered out of her resting place and shat all over the stairs. This brought tears to an already stressed roommates' eyes and complicated some business between friends...

Yesterday the carpet I slept on gave me a rug-burn on my wrist and I dreamt I was sentenced to die but first had to dive underwater and detonate a bomb. Yesterday I kind of wanted to give up and crawl into a hole. Thank god I survived yesterday. Yesterday is OVER! Shit is resolved and today I am free!

Today I will lose myself to the buzz and sting of the needle on my skin as I mark this transition and dissolve into that lovely numbing pain that tunes out all other noise. Today I get ink from a childhood friend who made his way (like me) from the east coast to the west. Today I'll spend hours in pure presence, unable to avoid or ignore and marvelling at my own strength and badassness! Today I treat myself. Today I am fresh. Today I am free. Today I start my weekend and today I start a new adventure!

Today is August 1.
Today is the Beginning.

Love Letters To San Francisco

Part III:

Love Letters To San Francisco

Part II:

Love Letters To San Francisco

Part I:

High on Henry Miller and Hieronymus Bosch

My body and mind pulsate as this morning’s caffeine makes its way through all systems. Buzzed, and high on Henry Miller, I’m ravenously devouring page after page of “Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch”.

Try as I might to significantly lighten my load before the move I can’t seem to part with a single book and the collection continues to grow as new “Amazon” arrivals reach me daily. I’m an addict.

My first experience with Miller came when I borrowed Justin’s copy of “Tropic of Cancer” a year or two back and I tore through that with an equal hunger. Finding it delightfully timely and perfectly suited for my (then) melancholy mood and general disdain towards life I was drawn in from the very first page:

“I am living in the Villa Borghese. There is not a crumb of dirt anywhere, nor a chair misplaced. We are all alone here and we are dead. […] There will be more calamities, more death, more despair. Not the slightest indication of a change anywhere. The cancer of time is eating us away. Our heroes have killed themselves, or are killing themselves. The hero, then, is not Time, but Timelessness. We must get in step, a lock step toward the prison of death. There is no escape. The weather will not change.” Miller p.1

Pretty grim for a book that actually contains quite a bit of humor but I returned the copy to its owner and only today, received my own. I have recently found a new joy in re-reading books and discovering how different they sound at different times in my life.

Perkier now, in this current period of transition and renewal, I’m finding “Big Sur…” to be written just for me. Perhaps I heavily project, or maybe divine timing really does exist, in either case, I’ll try to share some parallels I’ve drawn so far.

Moving for my art, I frequently ponder the strangeness of abandoning the thriving artistic community in San Francisco for “a pit” (that is, according to the peanut gallery) like LA. However, I’m compelled. Then I stumble upon this, “It is my belief that the immature artist seldom thrives in idyllic surroundings. What he seems to need though I am the last to advocate it, is more first-hand experience of life – more bitter experience, in other words. In short, more struggle, more privation, more anguish, more disillusionment”. Miller p. 13

Reading this my instinct seems, somehow confirmed or rather illuminated. If everyone’s negative predictions come true, I may very well be injecting myself into an environment that will further my disillusionment and stir my bitter distaste towards (parts) of society and life in general. Or not.

I also worry about being so isolated, so potentially alone and far from the comfort of my 7x7 world. But then Miller states that, “artists never thrive in colonies. Ants do” and “what the budding artist needs is the privilege of wrestling with his problems in solitude”. Miller p.13

I have my insignificant little problems to wrestle and I’ve moved many times in my young life. Every time there is a period of real solitude while the new home is being established and during these times, difficult as they may be, my art has always thrived.

As my Buddhist practice deepens I am inspired to go more minimal. Wishing to be free, or feel freer from my possessions and attachments I have been downsizing when it comes to my belongings. It has been an interesting process, sometimes painful but ultimately rewarding for me. When it came to my artwork, I finally chose to let go of my paintings too. Snapping pictures for posterity I have placed about half on the sidewalk outside and will prime the remaining canvases to be used again. Creating a blank slate for my imagination and releasing the work that came before as a snake sheds her skin or a monk destroys his beautiful sand mandala.

“If he is an artist he will be compelled to make sacrifices which worldly people find absurd and unnecessary. In following the inner light he will inevitably choose for his boon companion poverty. And, if he has in him the makings of a great artist, he may renounce everything, even his art”. Miller p.15

Although my physical environment will soon change, I know in my heart it’s of little importance seeing as how my own mind is my reality and this body my current home. An ancient Yogic Sutra by Patanjali states that, “through contentment, supreme joy is gained”. Miller points to a similar notion saying, “one’s destination is never a place but rather a new way of looking at things. Which is to say that there are no limits to vision.” p.25 Can I find contentment or new vision this moment? Can I ever? Will I?

Pressing forward I go, still unsure, excited, always questioning, always hoping. Then scratching all that, trying to let it all go and trying to stay present and mindful. I aim for some kind of yet-to-be-discovered artistic integrity based on little more than my intuition and insanity. Life is good! Onward.

Where Will I Land?

When you happen to live deep in the San Francisco Mission District among the hippest of the hipsters how can you settle for bland? On my internet hunt for rooms in LA I keep wondering, where will I land?

Girl on a budget, moving to LA. Seeking art, music, good food and good people. Bikability a major plus!

I've looked into Hollywood and Santa Monica, Echo Park and Silverlake and now I'm hearing another place worth scoping may be here in Highland Park.

I know nothing can compare to San Francisco but I'm determined to make the best of wherever I go. If I'm surrounded by more concrete than trees it'd better at least be covered in interesting graffiti or trampled by colorful characters. Whatever tiny room I end up in will be stamped with my own eclectic style but wouldn't it be nice if I could find some like-minded friends to create community with?

Here's hoping!

Counting The Days

2 days until I take a look at my first car prospect.

7 days and I'll have finished the purging-of-the-crap ordeal.

19 days and I'm packed and ready to be a travelling gypsy.

22 days and I'm out of my apartment and in with Lissy (still in SF).

37 days until the last day of work.

39 days and I'm in Santa Cruz with my sis for a bit.

45 and I'm driving to LA to stay with Julia for a week.

And about 50 and I hopefully have a new home.

Time speeds up as the move draws near.

The Beginning!

So, I'm still in San Francisco but the move to Los Angeles is getting closer every day and I'm already starting to transition into OTHERLAND.

The process of getting rid of stuff has been both emotionally draining and at the same time liberating!

I'm trying to go pretty light and minimal.

The craigslist hunting has been a trip so far. I've seen everything from college kids to single mom's to an artist looking for a nude model in exchange for free rent!

I've been e-mailing away, trying to save money and just mentally preparing for the big shift.

I recently got to go on an amazing silent retreat at Spirit Rock and the high from that experience lingers and inspires me during these crazy days.

Still trying to meditate and stay present and just let everything flow around me.

I have no place to move in to, no car to drive down in and less stuff every day...

I've never felt better!

All I can do is keep trying to make it happen and keep breathing.

We shall see!

So... if you have a car to sell in SF or a place for rent in LA or if you just want some free stuff from me let me know! It's going fast but I still have some cool junk that I don't need.