Sunday, June 19, 2005

Tall Kids Part Deux (Bikin' Boogaloo)

Current mood: cheerful

Dudes, I got a bike.

And not just any bike, but a used, 45-dollah, obviously-you-were-meant-to-have-it-b/c-it's actually-pink-and-black-and-kind-of-made-for-a-short-girl-I-mean-what-do-you-need-a-frickin-ray-of-light? bike.

And it is sooooo awesome, riding to work everyday and tooling around town. Now all I have to do is getting it outfitted with a basket and one of those clever bells, and I'm good to go. Sooooo happy

Which brings me to a bit of karmic justice.

You know the guy I talked about like a dog in my last post? The one who forced pictures of his grandson on me? The one whose name I was too cool to learn? Well, his name is Chuck Shoemaker. Know how I know?

Well, here's the pre-bike convo I had with my boss on Wednesday.

Me: Hey, Kelley. I'm planning on buying a bike today. And I was wondering if we have a bike rack on the premises.

Kelley: You're getting a bike?

Me: Yeah, I figured since I live so close, I might as well ride to work.

Kelley: Wow, you're so lucky.

Me: Yeah . . . so about the rack.

Kelley: Oh, we don't have one, but you can ask Chuck Shoemaker if he'll let you store it in the warehouse.

Me: Um, who's Chuck again?

Kelley: You know, the guy that came around with pictures of his grandson?

Me: Oh.

So, of course, I ask Chuck, and, of course, he says yes and even sneaks away from his conference call to show me the back door after hours exit, so I can get the bike even if he's locked the front entrance. And now I get to feel terrible about my last blog, b/c though my most romantic wish is to be an urban, bitter, slightly alcoholic, completely crazy, cranky bitch of a writer, the fact is I'm a pretty nice (you can take the girl outta the midwest...), weirdly optimisitic, only slightly insane writer, who can't write if she has any alcohol in her system and who feels bad about picking on an old guy, who then turned around and did her a favor.

Ah, well. What can you do?

I'm having an awesome weekend, though.

I went to see *Stuff Happens* by David Hare at the Mark Taper on Saturday. And I must recommend it to anyone who would appreciate a comprehensive, well-acted, wonderfully written play on how and why the war in Iraq happened. In other words, it's good political theater -- which is hard to find -- especially in L.A. Also, Julian Sands, the guy from Warlock, Arachnophobia, and Room With a View is playing Tony Blair, so that's worth the price of a ticket right there. But for those who don't have a lot of money, even for good theater, you can show up two-hours before showtime and get the $12 rush tickets. Here's the website for more info: Stuff Happens

Today, I feel like one of those pastoral indie films, in which the main character rides his and her bike around town.

Maybe I'll move to the Italian countryside.

Currently reading:
I, Fatty : A Novel
By Jerry Stahl
Release date: By 23 July, 2004

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

Okay, I've always wanted to write a blog...

So now I'm starting.

It occurs to me that I have always avoided journalling -- which is strange, b/c I can have periods of amazing self-involvement, so you'd think I'd be all over it.

I guess I look at it the way I look at writing a story. Don't start it, unless it's going somewhere interesting and good. Like I hate stories that don't have a clear sense of the Aristotalean beginning, middle, and end. And vague endings infuriate me -- b/c basically I've just wasted anywhere from an hour to DAYS of my life, just to end with something limp.

I often compare this with watching a man masturbate. I know no woman that enjoys this activity -- because seriously, what pleasure is there in it for you?

So when I see a movie or read a book that just sort of ends, like runs out of steam, I get upset.

And I especially hate that feeling you get in the middle of movies or plays, when you realize they may be going nowhere, and you're forced along for the ride by social convention or whatever keeps you there after five minutes of a movie or play that you know you're not going to enjoy.

This is why I've always liked having seen Fellini movies, rather than the actual viewing of them. And this is also why you will probably never catch me watching one outside of a class assignment, and I'm out of school now, so....

But then I have a moment of pause. B/c it also occurs to me that maybe I don't journal, b/c deep down inside I don't think my life is going anywhere.

And maybe I don't think my life is going anywhere, b/c I don't have a clear sense of direction or like even an outline as to where I'm going with this story I'm living.

And that's upsetting, b/c I won't write a word of anything without a outline, so why am I just freefloating through life?

Long story short, I decided to start blogging-- and exercising regularly outside of Derby Doll practice.

Don't ask. I'm pretty sure this is a random bid to take some kind of control of my life, since I can't do anything about my account being overdrawn, and I'm currently slogging my way through the worst case of writer's block...

I'm also thinking of actually cleaning my apartment. But, hey, I wouldn't want to get carried away, now.

Anyway, today I feel like a Fellini movie -- but not the happy, fun, drunk bits.

I feel like the existential, ennui-laced, self-aware bits.

But, hey, Fellini films got made, didn't they?

Currently reading:
Cloud Atlas : A Novel
By David Mitchell
Release date: By 17 August, 2004