All I want to do is be the gardener at the Norton Simon museum and come out with a little craftsman desk and an old ink blotter and my mac book and some jam and toast and ruffles and onion dip and type away after all the guests have gone home and make the sunset last five hours caught between that amazing moment before the sky turns black. When it's neon, like this:
This is the garden.
This the desk I want.
I've been picking figs from my yard and doing yoga and hiking and all sorts of good things to counteract my fiscal irresponsibility and lack of money making job. I made an amazing fig pie with the figs from the yard, some strawberries from the farmers market and lemon zest custard with lemons, also from the yard. I covered it with homemade carmel sauce, recipe off the internet. I was very proud of this pie and wanted video documentation of it's creation. I asked Nick to film me for a bit to show off the vibrant colors of the the figs but it quickly turned into this:
amazing fucked up thing click to see
Anyway, I wanted it to be in color but then Nick did this:
Needless to say it's not what I wanted.
But no matter what, none of this is what I want. I'm like a junkie coming off of some strong shit. I itch and scratch and think I know what I want, know what will make me feel better but it never does. I'm seconds away from vomiting red spew all over the bed like Christiane F- google if you don't know what that means- because I am quickly becoming bored of this healthy seditary lifestyle that involves exercise and fresh veggies. I mean, not really, I like exercise and veggies but I really haven't gone out and partied all summer and now it's over and I feel like it's slipped between my fingers. I mean, if you look at my blog from last year at this time, all I did was go out. In fact most of my youngish life I've gone out pretty routinely. I was talking to Swang and I got all morose over the fact that she's been to tons of parties and hung out and danced and lived it up. I've been a bump on a stump. I know part of it is money- as in I don't have any- but still, its never stopped me before. So I'm going to make a more concentrated effort to get out.
Speaking of, I went to high school with this guys and we were actually pretty good friends. This is his band, I've never seen them live but based on this vid I will soon. They're amazing. I'm going to FYF this weekend. That should be fun.
Also, since were on the topic of bad cool things, a part of me always wants to live and look like this:
Dare I say the real Christiane was more beautiful than her film counterpart? Alas I am 30 and not 13. So you know, I'm in no real danger of becoming a teenage Hamburg heroin addict nymph. But I can still be a scary old meth head cat lady with too many books that smell old and musty! So you look out LA, I'm comin at you!