Friday, July 25, 2014

Vacation Sex


We’ve been at it all summer, from the Canadian border
to the edge of Mexico, just barely keeping it American
but doing okay just the same, in hotels under overpasses
or rooms next to ice machines, friends’ fold-out couches,
in-laws’ guest quarters—wallpaper and bedspreads festooned
with nautical rigging, tiny life rings and coiled tow ropes—
even one night in the car, the plush backseat not plush
enough, the door handle giving me an impromptu
sacro-cranial chiropractic adjustment, the underside
of the front seat strafing the perfect arches of his feet.
And one long glorious night in a cabin tucked in the woods
where our crooning and whooping started the coyotes
singing. But the best was when we got home, our luggage
cuddled in the vestibule—really just a hallway
but because we were home it seemed like a vestibule—
and we threw off our vestments, which were really
just our clothes but they seemed like garments, like raiment,
like habits because we felt sorely religious, dropping them
one by one on the stairs: white shirts, black bra, blue jeans,
red socks, then stood naked in our own bedroom, our bed
with its drab spread, our pillows that smelled like us:
a little shampoo-y, maybe a little like myrrh, the gooseberry
candle we light sometimes when we’re in the mood for mood,
our own music and books and cap off the toothpaste and cat
on the window seat. Our window looks over a parking lot—
a dental group—and at night we can hear the cars whisper
past the 24-hour Albertson’s where the homeless couple
buys their bag of wine before they walk across the street
to sit on the dentist’s bench under a tree and swap it
and guzzle it and argue loudly until we all fall asleep.

Monday, June 23, 2014

NGC 290: A Stellar Jewel Box // NYC Legs


"Intelligence without ambition 
is a bird without wings."

-Salvador Dali


Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Destruction, Utter Annihilation

These remind me of a time when I was at my friend Gina's house around Christmas. We were unpacking ornaments from a dusty water stained cardboard box. She had two large Goodfeathers* ornaments. The pigeons were decked out in scarves and ice skates. 

I was making them figure eight across the carpet, twirled them in a single axel or two. This went on for a few minutes and I spaced out a bit. When I snapped out of it, I looked down and saw that they were smashed in my hands and Gina was screaming at me. 

"WHY DID YOU DO THAT!?" red in the face, her curls violently bobbing while her big brown eyes welled up.

"I didn't! I mean, um, I didn't mean to... it was an accident??" I stammered in my defense.

"WHAT DID YOU MEAN IT WAS AN ACCIDENT! I SAW YOU SMASH THEM TOGETHER!" she demanded unrelenting.

Hmmm, I guess I did smash them together. What did I think was going to happen? I flashed back to a minute ago when I bumped their beaks together as they grazed past each other. What really did happen? Where did I go?  Did I do it on purpose? How rotten, if so!

Why did I do it? Was I jealous that her family got to have traditional Christmas'? Was I secretly angry that she got to have a potpourri of amazing, sentimental ornaments while my mom went to the craft store each year, chose a color theme, and militantly wrapped gold ribbon around the tree from a wobbly ladder whilst shooing me out of the room with her left foot?

I'm still not sure what happened or why, but I do recognize that feeling that bubbles up every now and again. That craving for destruction, utter annihilation. Figuratively and literally. It's a little scary how dark the corners can get. It's important to keep focused, stay present. Don't ever drift off...



*there's an Animaniacs wiki?!?

Thursday, June 12, 2014

Summer To-Do List

  • Finish listening to Carsick
  • (Re-)Watch:
    • A Dirty Shame 
    • Cecil B. DeMented 
    • Pecker 
    • Serial Mom 
    • Cry-Baby 
    • Hairspray 
    • Polyester 
    • Desperate Living 
    • Female Trouble 
    • Pink Flamingos 
    • Multiple Maniacs 
    • Mondo Trasho 
    • Eat Your Makeup

Thursday, April 10, 2014

IC 2944 Running Chicken Nebula // Whatever


"Good things happen 
to those who hustle."
-Anais Nin





Tuesday, March 18, 2014

EMO



I realize that in Japan, a lot of these things aren't in the social consciousness, but I would really like to see the following emojis developed:

  • Champagne glass/cork (Necessity)
  • Chinese girl (ME!)
  • CHEESE 
  • Meatloaf
  • Black guy/girl (So I can stop using the moon)
  • Taco 
  • Hotdog 
  • Potato chips 
  • Running girl (I'm always running late)
  • Crab/lobster
  • Yoga mat/yoga pose (Helpful for communicating with R)
  • Pink donut
  • Mexican flag
  • Smiley face with regular glasses
Which ones would you like to see?

Friday, January 17, 2014

Sexy Talk


Do you wanna read about strip clubs and auto-erotic asphyxiation?
Do I even need to ask?




Ayiyiyi, I shouldn't have Googled that last one right before bed.

G'night, kids.

Friday, January 03, 2014

Anarchy!

I recently found myself flopping around in a dark basement mainlining Sons of Anarchy. Often times I find myself going through withdrawal -- shakes, diarrhea, sweats -- you name it. Luckily, I have four seasons stashed, which I'm trying to ration and not blow my load and go on another bender.

A few observations after watching seasons one and two:
  1. Is it Ron Perlman as Clay Morrow -- OR -- is it Will Ferrell as Ron Perlman as Clay Morrow?
  2. Maggie Siff's characters always gets to bang the hottest leading males (see: Don Draper)
  3. Taylor Sheridan looks like one he could be one of R's maternal uncles/cousins
  4. ROLLINS.
  5. Lots of Restylane (Magz, Drea de Matteo, & Peg Bundy) and  not a lot of Botox (Magz again)
  6. Violence level: satisfactory 
  7. Gratuitous sex level: poor (let's hope that things steam up in the next few seasons).
I love you, so no spoilers, OK?

Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Venus at the Edge // Happy New Year


“Everything in the universe 
is within you. 
Ask all from yourself.” 
-Rumi





2013


You were so good to me. 
Your memory shall not be forgotten.

Monday, November 18, 2013

Unseen

There are just some things that cannot be unseen.



Friday, November 08, 2013

XXXI


: /

Wednesday, November 06, 2013

Zeta Oph: Runaway Star // London



It is never too late 
to be what you 
might have been.
-George Eliot


Monday, November 04, 2013

Bondage Bunnies


A regular ol' goddamn Bansky, eh?

art hack by yours truly, an art hack
just kidding, i don't know shit about art.


Tuesday, October 08, 2013

Oh. Sorry. Haven't been updating. 
Too busy hanging out with this bitch.


Wednesday, September 04, 2013

Sweet Sorrow


Completely saddened and down trodden that the Best Summer Ever is coming to an end.

2013. Adventures galore. Bachelorette party weekend in Vegas. Pool time in LA with friends and pizza. Bachelorette party in Scottsdale. Pool time in Phoenix. Leather shorts. Handful of fun shows. NovaSure. The most perfect wedding in Costa Rica. (Bride walked down the aisle to WonderWall for fucks sake). Laying around in hammocks. Feeding monkeys. Petting sloths. Hot-tubbin'. Zip linin'. Skinny dippin'. Ol' long johnsonin'. New yoga studio. New friends in Montreal. Dancing the night away. Connecting more than ever with my best friend. Bloody Caesars with chicken wings.  Poutine. Poutine. Poutine.

Not too shabby for managing to squeeze the time of your life into the grind that makes coming down-slash-back all the so much harder.

Monday, July 29, 2013

NGC 3132: The Southern Ring Nebula // JapHats



“Courage is 
resistance to fear, 
mastery of fear, 
not absence of fear.”
-Mark Twain


Thursday, July 18, 2013

Sunday, June 30, 2013

YBIAWL: Part 2 - Cold Feet

Part two of a three part series entitled "Your Body is a Wonderland" dedicated to my maternal grandmother, who graciously allowed me to John Mayer her corpus, in a mostly, nonsexual way.



Growing up in Massachusetts was beautiful. I loved waking up on blustery winter mornings to discover that the snow on the back deck was up to my neck (I was only about 3'7" at the time) and school had been cancelled. I'd bound around outside until I couldn't feel my extremities and had two tiny glimmering snot luges pouring down my face.

Defrosting was another painful story. Teeth still chattering, my grandmother would pluck out my little frozen "dumplings" from underneath the piles of blankets.What she did next was the most altruistic act I can think of anyone doing for anyone, ever.

SIDE BAR: I can only imagine that having four children takes quite the toll on your body. I had heard many legends of my grandmother when I growing up. One that particularly imprinted on me was that by the time my uncle Johnnie was born, she was able to breast feed with him piggyback style by slinging a tit over her shoulder. Not sure how anatomically accurate that is, but what I can say for sure that her tits, were indeed, a magical sanctuary.

She slowly unbuttoned her shirt (I don't think she wore a bra, but if she did, this is the point where she'd take that off, too), lifted up her long, battle-worn breast, nestled my icy foot under, and draped it back over my foot. Her flesh melted down part of my leg. Rinse and repeat with the right sides.

We'd sit there and chat on her twin bed with my feet jammed up under her tits while she chain-smoked. Needles and pins would appear; while the feeling slowly returned. It felt like heaven; it felt like home.

Read Part 1 here