Oh Sir Frankie Crisp, you know what I mean.

I'm starting to realize more and more how difficult it is to be a good person. When you're young, things are of course simple because children think simply, right and wrong is a good deal easier to gauge, and usually when it comes to very serious things a child wouldn't even dream of doing something really truly bad (there are cases, of course, like those two British boys who killed that toddler-- don't look it up, it'll only depress and frighten you-- but I speak generally). Plus, in my case I think I was just a *good* kid. Overly cautious sometimes, even. Good-hearted and mature. Now I have more choices, more opportunities to fail at being good and kind and generous, outwardly and inwardly. I realize often that I choose to dwell on bad or negative things these days, or I just assume that I'm generally good because I think that I can tell the difference. I suppose it's apathy? There's a better word for it, and I use it all of the time, but I can't think of it right now. Anyway, I think my point is that it takes much more effort to be a real person than I used to think. It takes an effort to take care of oneself and to go further in life than just your front door. It takes effort to be kind, not just to people you care about but to people you don't understand. Giving people what they need from you (really need, not want) is a difficult thing. I've always liked to think that I'm a giving person, with my time and energy and money (when I have it) and love, but maybe I'm not so much.

Maybe I just need to keep up with the constant CHANGE, and never assume that I'm done growing up, that things are settled. Things are never settled. You have to keep rolling. I have to keep rolling, and finding new ways to be kind and loving while maintaining what I already have. I have to resist laziness in every form-- not easy for a depressed personality, as I've discovered over the past four years, because laziness can be the result of emotional exhaustion and stagnation, however I really must try all the harder. In the words of George Harrison, let it roll.

I'm in Coffee Bean right now, after a very productive day, and I'm trying to commit to writing but all I seem to FEEL like writing is this. Bah. Must get organized.

Hey there, Mr. T.

The simple fact is that coffee makes everything better.

I think I'm long overdue for a "good things" list. I shall do that later today.

EDIT: it is later today.

GOOD THINGS:

1. MY JOB.

It is epic. I probably won't talk about it too terribly much here, because even though my bosses aren't techies they may still find this and I don't want to be blabbing the details of their business all over the place. Still, the store is absolutely magic, the couple (who created the store, design all of the furniture in it as well as make the candles, run it all themselves. they have two adorable daughters and a fascinating backstory, interlaced with their work with many aspects of the art world) is magic, the job is magic. Yesterday was a big prep/writing day there, and I woke up super anxious that I was just not going to know what to do or how to approach it, but they were preoccupied with their own stuff so I figured out a ton of stuff out on my own and came up with some new ideas that they loved. I have alot of control already, and I think that will only grow (they want to do other things rather than just running the store all the time). I work the counter with them on the weekends and write/do newslettery salesthings on the weekdays. I'm learning about furniture design and arrangement and trendy stuff. I'm so excited and feel so hip, plus I have to dress nice while I'm there and dressing nice always makes me feel cooler than I am.

2. COFFEE.

The great thing about being poor for weeks and not consuming nor having time to make coffee is that once I have it, it hits me damn hard (in a good way). I CAN DO ANYTHING with just a little bit of coffee! I woke up v. early this morning (as I do Mon/Wed/Fri) to go to my Aid job, and on the way over I was dying as I slept so poorly last night for whatever reason. I got to work early, still dying and sagging, and decided dammit, if ever there were a time for coffee it is now. I turned around, counted all of the change I had in my car, and bought a little iced coffee at Coffee Bean (iced so I could drink it quickly-- honestly, I don't know why I'm so sensitive to hot stuff, I can only drink coffee after it's been sitting for about 15 minutes). I turned into a super-heroine instantly, and despite having about 3 hours of sleep, I am still going now on my most productive day in a long time. Haven't had coffee in awhile? Have some. Really, do it.

3. Good music

Song: Conversation 16 by The National

I love the National, but when I sampled their newest album High Violet nothing really jumped out at me. Still, I downloaded a few songs some time ago and they've been slowly creeping into my consciousness. This one in particular is intriguing because while you listlessly listen all of a sudden you catch that it sounds like a story about zombies, and the chorus is "I was afraid/I'd eat your brains." Of course, it's my feeling that it's a pretty deep song about the monotony of Hollywood-type life (yeah the zombie analogy has been done before, but this feels a bit different). It sounds to me like a man has become an undead creature over his service in Hollywoodland (or the like), and either his zombie-ness threatens to zombi-fy a live girl (you're the only thing I want anymore, let's run away, I was afraid I'd eat your brains), or part of his zombiehood is his marriage to a zombie bride (lots of "we's" and we're in this together kind of stuff). Anyway, it's fantastic stuff.

Band: Cloud Cult

One of the few still making concept albums. I really like their stuff, especially "Running with the Wolves" and "There's So Much Energy In Us." I recommend, they're like a cooler sounding, less twee Polyphonic Spree, and the guy's voice is cool.

4. Cold

SoCal is a weird place. Two weeks ago it was flaming hot, almost like summer in Texas. LA had record-breaking highs. And then it got cold, and then it got kind of hot and sunny again, and now it's cold, damp, and cloudy-grey. I like seeing a bit of the sky, but I'm tired of the sun and warmth and all that. Cold! Cold I said! And the clouds heard me and bend to my will.

5. THE WEEPIES

A few nights ago, a few people rallied together to go see an old favorite band, the demure duo called The Weepies in LA. It was a long-delayed Christmas present for my friend Maureen, who has loved the Weepies for forever and introduced me to them. The album Say I Am You was such a huge part of my life, and each song is so special that hearing about 40% of it live (and sounding PERFECT) was mind-blowing and deeply comforting and satisfying. Her voice is so velvety and soft and his voice is like... hot cocoa or something. They are both sweet people and I adored them and urge anyone to hear them live.

6. Happy dogs.

The dogs that my landlords own, two little mutty things named Gaby and Mocha, are precious. They're on the bigger side of "small," thank god, and they're not yappy unless someone is trespassing. Gaby is a fluffy part-poodle part something else (mostly part something else, she's fluffy and cute and not poodle-shaped at all though she does have the curlish poodle fur), an old, tired, sweet dog. She's Mr. V's dog, and very loyal. She doesn't like to do anything when he's not around. As far as Mocha is concerned, I'm not sure what kind of dog she is at all, has a weird thick little body and a sweet face with soft little eyes, but she's mostly precious because she loves everyone, comes to see me when she hears me moving around the house, and runs to the gate when she hears my car come home. She also loves walks, which I try to take her on because I'm nice like that. Anyway. It's nice to have someone be happy to see you when you come home.

7. Remembering weird weirdo things I did when I was younger.

Being surrounded by junior high kids (aid job) reminds me of what a weird kid I was, even in comparison to weird kids. I loved Sean Connery (I remember fantasizing about saying nice things about him at his AFI lifetime achievement thingy the night that it aired. yeah. like talking to the mirror about what a nice guy Mr. Connery was, and what a professional to work with ahahahahaha.... ahahahaha), I loved Judaism (not that that's a weird thing to love, of course, but it is a bit odd for a nine year old raised-Christian kid to perform hours of research about Jewish practices and holidays. I made my dollhouse people into a Jewish family and made them little decorations and accessories out of clay, and I marked all of the Jewish holidays on my calendar and had them celebrate every single one as orthodoxly as possible. I made copies of Jewish factoids from the books I had checked out and made it into my own huge blue Jewish book which I kept for a long time and referred to often), I was into Catwoman comic books and made a weekly pilgrimage to search for them, I started a business of printing off and cutting out those stupid "cartoon doll" things that were so popular when the internet first became really available to kids. Remembering those things are so hilarious to me, and that's just the tip of the iceberg, of course.

8. My ability to cook chicken and various other things.

So. When you run out of options all of a sudden cooking becomes a possibility. I have always sucked at cooking and the kitchen in general because it frightens me, but when left to my own devices I seem to be able to learn. That's kind of a pattern with me. I guess I'm just a hands-on learner with a psychotic fear of pressure from other people. Anyway, last week I started making things even though I couldn't remember for the life of me how to make most of it (what on earth did people use before the in-ter-nets?), but everything turned out alright. I even used a skillet. Skillets have always been particularly scary because I've never been sure as to what makes a skillet different from a frying pan and mostly prefer the microwave for everything. I know, I know, I make you talented cooks very ill. But I am learning! Another good thing.

9. Waking up to "Good Mornin'!" from Singin' in the Rain.

Annoying? Kinda. Worth it? Totally.

Bonus: I was very smug as I watched Glee the other night (stupid glee, why can't i quit you?!) and one of the characters said something like Gene Kelly and Donald O'Connor duet in Singin' In The Rain with the song Make 'Em Laugh. They don't. It is in fact the Moses Supposes song that they famously duet with, along with the Fit as a Fiddle song etc. Make 'Em Laugh was all Donald. Gene just watched and laughed. Faillllllll, Glee. FAIL.

10. Silvery, glitter nailpolish.

That's all. It's just so shiny.

I was going to write chipperly about my financial plans once the paychecks start coming in (yeah, still living off that .74 cents), when I realized that I haven't yet recieved my bill from the government reminding me of what I still owe on my traffic ticket, which I didn't deserve, which I am paying off in installments. All of a sudden I had a horrible feeling. I dashed to my bank account.

Apparently the last payment I made, even though it said "debit 60.00" last time I looked, has now vanished. There are 60 dollars in my bank account that should be in the government's pocket. And I made the payment EARLY! And it SAID it was gone! SHIT. ALL I NEED IS THE GOVERNMENT MAD AT ME. I can't pay more money to them for fucking up. I can't believe this.

Ok. I know I just got a job and should be rejoicing, and I am, and I do, but 11 dollars an hour is chicken feed in comparison to what I have to get paid. My optimism is too fragile.

"Failure to comply will result in paying a civil assessment fee of 300.00, a hold placed on your driver's license, a civil judgement against you, referral to the Franchise Tax Board Intercept Program and wage garnishments."

Why me? Why am I so stupid that I didn't check on this earlier? Why did I think it would be fine? Why do I think anything is ever going to be fine?! WHAT HAS THE WORLD GOT AGAINST ME RIGHT NOW?!

I am so dashed.

Actually, it's not so bad, I'll get it figured out. I wish I had money.

I think I just need a real hug.

he would know.

"A psychotic thinks that two and two is five. He's very candid. A neurotic knows that two and two is four, but HE CAN'T STAND IT."

-Danny Kaye

hi, john.

Really a shame that you died so young and all.

Yesterday was the much-hyped Lennon 70th birthday (or would-be 70th birthday if he hadn't been shot in 1980, ugh). I say much-hyped because it was surrounded by the release of some special edition stuff (remastered somethingorother hooplah) and the young!lennon movie (which I saw online months ago, and unless they recut it I am mostly unimpressed) and this and that. I think that's kind of a bummer. I mean, the fellow's dead. Is it a tribute or GASP a moneymaker??? I don't blame Yoko solely for that kind of stuff but of course her hand is in everything Lennon and her ownership is stifling. I'm sorry, their relationship was incredibly unstable at the time of his death, months before she was having an affair and the year before that she had CHOSEN a secretary to "give" to John and the two of them ran off and wasted away for a year before Yoko reigned him in (and made sure he'd never see the secretary again). I don't doubt that they loved each other, and of course that's not for anyone to say or speculate about, but I think it's certainly obvious that the woman was conniving and very good at keeping the willing John under her little tiny thumb. Anyway, my point was that it's weird to hear her talk about "john would have wanted you to give money to me, my life is devoted to my love for john, bla bla bla" when their relationship was shaky at best, and while John was all yay peace yay love yay activism he was also very moody, very sharp, very selfish and there's no telling what he'd go on to do. Anyway. I don't like seeing people capitalize on that kind of thing, I hope a portion of the money goes to charity at least.

Anyway, since yesterday was kind of a mini holiday for people who care about this kind of thing I celebrated by listening to my lennon best-ofs, accoustics, and plastic ono band stuff. One song on the accoustic is mainly a poorly recorded version of "it's real" which consists of John whistling and strumming. The minute it came on, the two little dogs in the house came running and barking to my door. It made me smile and think that the silly dogs and I were sort of similiar like that, still quite profoundly affected by something as crazy as pop music and John Lennon. Just goes to show you, the man still has it.

Listen to Oh Yoko and tell me it doesn't make you damn happy. Or instant karma's gonna get you.

so silver, so exact.

So I'm listening to my own playlist, and You Are The Moon comes up.

I wonder sometimes if I could write a series of essays or short, biographical stories about every song that I love and how it's connected to me. This is one I found on some blog in early 2006 and put on a mix cd for myself. I carried around said mix cd (which included songs by Beirut, also my then-discovery, the song "eve of destruction" and instant karma by John Lennon) in my gigantic portable cd player so I could take it to the gym or listen to it while studying. My friends and I were music addicts, though, so sometimes if we were just sitting around I'd take out my player and just blare it through the headphones so we could all have at least some faint music. I remember the four of us being in the lame VC cafeteria one day in the fall, when the cold was creeping in, and I told everyone they had to hear a certain song on my cd to pass the time. I don't remember what that song was, because as soon as it ended You Are The Moon came on, which was my moody, dark and slightly depressed song of the time and I assumed most people I knew would not like my secret sad music, but my friend Josh immediately perked up at the sound of the piano. "What's that?" "...A sad song?" I tried to dismiss it. "I like it," Josh declared. My friend Jon pulled the headphones closer to listen. "I like it too." My friend Amanda, the psychotically happiest person on earth even liked it. So we listened to it on repeat for about fifteen minutes in the mostly empty cafeteria. Eventually everyone caught the Hush Sound bug, a bunch of my other friends-- also originally infected by You Are The Moon-- and I went to their concert. Still, I like to think I started it that day, not for the sake of receiving the credit (though I usually am obsessed with that. i admit it. it's a bad thing), but because I loved that afternoon.

That fall I was also very deep into the noir genre and wrote my first published-for-money story, Dead Day, as a response to that story (and a challenge. and a few other things. but anyway). Thinking about it, I had to get out my "quote book" wherein I, phasedly (no that's not a word), copy down striking quotes from books and poetry and films and wise people and such. Right next to the Jack Kerouac quote-- because yes, I was also into The Beat Generation then-- I found a tiny trove of hardboiled goodness. this was the first one:

"You've always been so good to me, you've taken care of me, you've been everything to me but what I was hoping you'd be. That isn't your fault. It isn't mine, either. It's just a miserable state of affairs..." -the burglar, david goodis

i believe i was reading that book that very day as i took the bus home.

life is funny.

I am so hungry. I am so hungry. I am so hungry for REAL food, I've only just realized that I've had nothing but coffee for the past three days. What. I didn't even know that was going on. I came home, turned on the teevee, and noticed that EVERY SINGLE COMMERCIAL featured some kind of fantastic food that I wanted to gobble down. Namely, pizza, which I of course like but only ever really want when I'm hungry. Oh my gosh. I want pizza NOW. Or mexican food. Or a huge burger. Or a steak. With potatoes. Lots of potatoes.

This is probably how people go mad. I have no food and no money to go out for some. I may perhaps swipe something from the people I live with, like cheese or something, but I want a MEAL. With MEAT and dairy and freakin' potatoes. It's cloudy, autumn weather outside and it's chilly and I want a cup of tea and LOTS OF FOOD. Damn. It. Give me food, world. Come on. Also, some good TV would be nice. And no pizza hut commercials. Thanks.

Edit: once again TV screws me over, the latest Glee episode depressed me with its lameness and also made me incredibly hungry for a grilled cheesus.

Edit: Every series on TV right now is featuring their "food" episode. this was so planned. I should turn off the TV and read, however I'm afraid that the only thing I'll be able to find is a cook book or something.