Long Road to Ruin

                                      It was for this

Barren beauty, barrenness of rock that aches

On the seaward path, seeing the fruitful sea,

Hearing the lark of rock that sings, smelling

The rock-flower of hawthorn, sweetness of rock—

It was for this, stone pain in the stony heart,

The rock loved and laboured; and all is lost.

- Sea Holly (excerpt), by Conrad Aiken

Shadow of the Day

I think Garrett's death has made us all stop and draw a piercing moment of reflection. David and I ranted about drunk drivers, particularly since some of the boys dabble in it occasionally. I've certainly stopped moping about my impending birthday, since it's just selfish and, really, I'm almost grateful to be having another one. In fact, I'm actually looking forward to spending the day with my friends. I whined about getting old, and then something like this happens and makes me painfully aware of how young I am, how young my friends are, to be slapped in the face with such heartache and immediate mortality.

It also makes me want to go out with my friends more, since I'm always sober and down to drive. And tell them that I love them to bits. But only when they're piss drunk and unable to remember anything. I have my reputation to uphold, after all.


Garrett, thank you for always showing me a great time at your parties and events. You'd get me in, flash me that contagious smile, and give me a drunken hug. Come to think of it, I really can't picture you in my mind without your huge grin...and I wouldn't want it any other way.

Where Is the Love?

B's on a "date" right now. I put date in quotation marks because he doesn't believe in dating. He thinks it's a crock of shit that he should have to wine and dine someone just for the privilege of getting to know them. Luckily for him, tonight consists of a home-cooked meal at an acquaintance's house, so all B needs to do is bring some wine and his famous creme brulee. The Viet chick he's being set up with is supposedly a hotter, more successful version of me. We've been jokingly referring to her as his upgrade, and I'm really curious to find out if she lives up to the talk that his friend has been spewing.

Speaking of talk from friends, everyone I've mentioned this to is basically saying, "OMG, are you crazy!? Hurry up and take him back before he gets over your sorry ass!" Dude. First of all, that would be terribly selfish on my part. I can't drop him and then decide to start clutching again because he might be moving on! How does that improve my growth as a person? Second, if I freaked out over every possible replacement, I'd go nuts! Considering how maturely he has handled the fact that I'm dating, it's the least I can do for him not to thwart his bachelor time. Third, even if I did want to reconcile, B's at the point where he wants to fuck around a bit. I mean, he's finally gotten over the heartbreak part of the split, so he might as well reap some single-guy rewards, right? I don't mind. Last of all, thanks! What, nobody thinks I can do any better? Ok, ok, it's probably true, and I know everyone--including my family--thinks that I won the lottery when B fell for me, and that I'm an idiot for leaving him.

Broken Heart by May Ann Lucidine

And speaking of family, none of our parents know about what happened. B doesn't want to alarm them or look dumb if we end up back together, and I just don't want to hear my mom bitch me out, lol. B was groaning to me earlier about how he's going to have to concoct a story to his mom about what he did for me for Valentine's Day, haha. My family doesn't talk all that much for me to be making up shit, so I'm covered. We've decided that if we ever do fill in the folks, it'll be because one of us has truly moved on with someone new.

And speaking of Valentine's Day, I spent mine trying to end things with Isaac, and then trying to make it up to him the rest of the time because I ruined his holiday, haha. We've been casually dating for about a month, and I definitely don't see this going long term. I don't want him to get too emotionally involved, and I wish he wouldn't take things so seriously. Don't get me wrong; I like him, and he's a wonderful guy--I really wouldn't bother if he weren't. I just happen to have an extremely pessimistic view of the relationship, which I attempt to express a lot because I don't want anyone getting hurt. Besides, this whole "it'll never work" shit is not just on my part either; the guy is a Russian Jew who wants to marry 100% Jewish. He told me that right when we started taking an interest in one another, and I wholly appreciated his honesty. So why does he get so upset every time I honestly discuss the futility of our future?! Boys are weird. He thinks I'm crazy, so I guess we're even.

Full Moon, Empty Heart by Fabian Perez

And speaking of crazy, to conclude this shit, I feel like ever since this all went down, an emptiness has pervaded inside, and I foresee nothing that can bring back fulfillment. It's quite different from the crushing depression I used to experience back in the day; it's more like the lingering ghost of it, a diaphanous shadow across my psyche. I find it all the more irritating, because it's not something I've ever dealt with before. At least with depression, I was moved to write. This is just an underwhelming feeling of discontentment. Despite their having no true weight, these flimsy phantoms still need to be exorcised. If only I knew how.

Cut Here

I consider getting a haircut an event, since a) it gets me out of the house and b) it's practically an annual thing. "But Kim, your hair becomes so unkempt, damaged, and long. Why on earth don't you maintain it?!" I'll tell you why. Because for almost three years, I was dating a man who'd freak out at the mention of me cutting it. So every time I planned on going, even for a desperately needed trim, B would exclaim, "What? No! Please! Your hair looks fine! I like it long!" Naturally, my laziness would overcome my annoyance, and I'd just let it stay unruly.

Yes, this is the "after" shot. Jerks!

Anyway, the other day, Giz took one look at my locks and immediately urged me to tag along and see her stylist. It's only because she volunteered to pick me up that I agreed to attend. The man works in Alhambra! (Or Monterey Park. One of those. And after last weekend's excursion there, which should be in another blog, I'm so over that area!) That's way too far for haircut--I don't care how gay good the guy is! But after today's one-hour session with Kevin, I'm hooked. He's awesome! He took his time, and gave me the exact bangs I wanted, which I haven't had since Christine from The Cut in Santa Monica, who quit and disappeared into stylist purgatory. He gave me the best advice on how to coif my 'do. And he amused me with a story about how his friend was manhandled in Amsterdam's red-light district by two exasperated prostitutes. (Unfortunately, Kevin couldn't find any he-bitch man-whores, and went home without experiencing any hooky-nooky.)

The bangs hide my forehead zits! F'realz!

Anyway, I can't find any info online about the place, or else I'd link it in case someone lives in the area. The cost was $40, I tipped him $10, and I still feel like I underpaid. As for the pics, in my defense, my hair is so super slick and straight that you can't ever really tell when anything's happening to it. However, if you saw my hair before this, with the three inches of old ass orange dye at the dead ends, you'd be impressed. I don't think anything has looked this healthy on my body since before 1998, when puberty hit! Also, I really do hate having pictures taken of me, let alone self-portraits. But I need to start logging this stuff, because I can honestly feel the impending inevitability of old age, and I don't want to be decrepit and wondering what the hell I used to look like before gravity and wrinkles took their course.

Doggy Dogg World

Giz took these shots of Pumpkin with her iPhone. They're so cute that I had to share. Look at my little monster! I love her! Look at her big yellow eyes! Awww! That's her little stuffed puppy that she likes to viciously bite and throttle. She's such a sweetheart!

Don't Speak

In an effort to get people to look
into each other's eyes more,
and also to appease the mutes,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly a hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long distance lover,
proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.

When she doesn't respond,
I know she's used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.

-The Quiet World, by Jeffrey McDaniel

The Climb

Being fit and getting fondled!

So our rock climbing venture occurred early last month, but I didn't get the pictures from Kristin until recently, so here's a post about a rather belated event. I'll make it quick. I'm just stoked because I look super skinny in the above shot. Yes, I realize that I have bony arms and legs, but if you know me that well, you also know about my big blubber belly. Mmm. It's like all my fat designated my tummy as the new South Beach and decided to flock there in droves. And in that pic, you can't even tell! I look like I have washboard abs! Suh-weet.

Double knotting like a pro,
but rappelling like a novice.

What makes this a monumental activity is because, well, I don't do activities. Frankly, I don't really like to move. I'm most content, as Dre puts it, eating chips in my bed and reading. (Only she got it slightly wrong; I prefer sunflower seeds. Sunflower seeds.) But Isaac suggested it, and it sounded pretty fun because my last sort of active endeavor was over a year ago at Yosemite, and while that was more rock scrambling than climbing, I was pretty good at it and I had fun. Plus, when I told others about it, their enthusiasm had me going, and we ended up booking the last six spots of the instructional group.

L to R: Tim, Dre, me, Jason, Kristin & Isaac

I was a little stressed, because everyone was running late, and I called Rockreation to let them know, and was informed that anyone tardy over 15 minutes would forfeit their spot, and lose out on the $40 (per person) fee. Kristin and I were the only ones who arrived on time; thank goodness Kristin was there because it was love at first sight for the instructor. He proceeded to hover around her the rest of the day, and gave the approval to hook up the four others in our group who came 16 or 17 minutes late.

An Instructor and the Latebirds

Climbing up the wall was pretty easy. It's the "let go at 40 feet up and lean back into empty space" that's the terrifying part. But then you get used to it, and you feel all great, and you deal with the sweaty pits, and the fear of your partner not belaying you correctly, while checking out the tan and muscular bodies, burning calories, and goofing around with your friends. And then the next few days, your arms are burning, your fingers ache, and you're walking as if two men banged you like a Salvation Army drum (my favorite line from Bedazzled).

Ready...set...rock climb!

Just Like the Movies

I'm the kind of person who can get thoroughly pulled into a film. I rarely cast a cynical eye on incongruities, or snarkily question the unreality of movie moments. Some critic was recently fired for constantly praising worthless movies for kickbacks from the studios. He peppered his reviews with such banalities as "this is a must-see film" and "you don't want to miss this!" Well, I'm like his enthusiastic equivalent, only without the shady bribing, and with a better vocabulary and bigger boobs (here's hoping). Usually, all I require is a happy ending. That's why I'm still shell-shocked from The Departed. And All Dogs Go to Heaven. (What?! Yeah, he got into heaven, but the goodbye scene traumatized my little eight-year-old heart. I sobbed incoherently for ten minutes straight.)

"Why even bother saving NYC?
Coverfield's attacking next month."

I Am Legend
1-10-08 I watched an advanced screening copy of the film, aka a great quality bootleg, over at Tomo's house. (Yes, I felt bad about it, but clearly not enough to just say no.) I found the movie quite entertaining, despite the disappointing ending. Then again, I didn't shell out $10 to watch it, so that contributes to my assessment. The scene in the warehouse was extremely suspenseful and thrilling, and the images of a desolate NYC were spectacular. Will Smith's ripped body was delicious, and the dog was an absolute darling. Will's desperate pleas in the video store made my heart heavy. I wouldn't recommend this to those who like rational explanations for every turn of events. Or biologists/virologists, who are probably shaking in ludicrous laughter at the situation that has wiped out humanity. ***SPOILER ALERT*** Chanel made a reassuring remark about how the dog was going to live and have cute babies before the movie began. So gullible me, I was still sitting there all calm when the dog was attacked, since hey, she was going to be fine! She was going to have babies! NO. She didn't have babies. She was strangled to death as she was transforming into a monster by an agonized Will Smith. That sucked ass. And I couldn't even yell at Chanel because she had fallen asleep on the floor by that point. Also, why did Willy have to die!? The title is horribly misleading; it's I Am Legend, not I Was Legend, thereby providing the moviegoer with a false sense of security that Will Smith will save humankind and live to tell the tale.

"No! You're not going into the kitchen
until you promise to stop cutting yourself!"

Cloverfield
1-18-08 In spite of all the buzz generated from the cunningly covert trailer and the vast viral campaign, I truly could've waited to watch this film. Instead, I trudged out to a midnight premiere to watch it with Isaac, who, only two days earlier, had vowed not to succumb to the sneaky marketing tactics of the film. Then he heard a radio program gushing about the big mystery, and decided we had to immediately watch it. Man, I'm so glad he was such a sucker. What an exhilarating, exuberant, engrossing, and enthralling movie! Especially that night footage scene in the tunnels! Seriously! Now, I have pretty bad motion sickness, so you'd think that 90 minutes of hand-held camera footage with plenty of shaky running would make me nauseous. Instead, I was so absorbed in the film that I barely noticed it. I'm a suspense fan, and this movie knocked it up and threw it down, ultimate fighter style. I wouldn't recommend this to those who like neat and complete resolutions and answers. Or those who couldn't sit through The Blair Witch Project. ***SPOILER ALERT*** Ok, even the grumblings of Isaac over the ridiculousness of certain aspects didn't bring me down. The movie never explains anything about the monster. Where does it come from? What is its purpose for destroying NYC? What the hell are those crazy killer spiders dropping from it? Babies? Parasites? What really happened behind the screen to Janice from Mean Girls? How can the monster resist all those bombs? What, is its skin made of Kevlar? And why the hell was the helicopter flying low enough to get sideswiped by the monster? Yeah, I didn't care about any of that. You know what did bother me, though? No, not the ending, even though you pretty much assume everyone gets killed. It's the fact that Jason's girlfriend didn't even cry when he died. Homegirl was just dry eyed with a crumpled face. No, bitch. I expected tears. Lots of them. You call that love? You disgust me.

"I feel fat. Am I fat in this dress?"
"Nope. Does this suit make me blurry?"

Atonement
1-25-08 I really liked this movie, which is surprising because it is an awfully sad story. It had beautiful visuals, particularly that breathtaking, panoramic shot of Normandy, and Keira Knightly in the green dress that mesmerized Dre. I normally never find Keira all that attractive, but dear God, that sex scene in the library has plagued my fantasies for the past ten days. She looks ravishing. And James McAvoy! Oomf! Instant infatuation. The most crushing part in the movie is when he strolls up proudly with the twins, and that look of bewilderment slowly shadows his face as everyone stands before him. And then the look on his face as he is placed in the car--it kills me. As for Briony, the central character in the movie, I held a grudge the entire time, thus making me almost disgusted with the final moments of the movie. I'm fairly sure that's not what the film intends for the audience; the movie is called 'atonement,' after all. It's just that I felt so deeply for the two lovers that I couldn't wholly forgive Briony for her actions. It's a languid, lush tale that didn't make me pine for my $12 back. I wouldn't recommend it for action-only fans or people who've done something that completely fucked up someone else's life (might hit a little too close to home). ***SPOILER ALERT*** I knew he was going to die. They were totally foreshadowing it, so I wasn't too devastated. Plus, writers tend to make the story all super tragic in order to give it more depth. I hate when that happens! And I feel SO gypped that that confrontation with the three of them in Keira's room was just make-believe. It's just not fair!

"I know! QWERTY is played out.
Mad props for scrambling it up!"

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
1-31-08 B and I were supposed to watch this since before Christmas, but we finally made it happen last Thursday. In case you didn't know, this is the critically acclaimed movie about a man who has locked-in syndrome, and can only move and communicate with his right left eye (thanks for catching that, B, you loser). Jean-Do feels completely trapped and isolated (hence the diving bell metaphor), but his imagination sets him free (hence the butterfly metaphor). Yes, it's just as heartrending and beautiful as the trailer indicates, although not quite as uplifting. What makes it so much more haunting is that it's a true story. B says he came out with the message of "live life to the fullest." I got more of a "be good to the people you love or you might end up fully cognizant but completely paralyzed and unable to truly recompense for your wrongs" kinda vibe. But that could be my pesky pessimism overshadowing the sunshine and all. Just watch it. It's impressionable, unforgettable, and moving. I'm glad I had B's hankie around, because my face would've been even messier than it usually is. ***SPOILER ALERT*** I'm so heartsick over the scene where the mother of Jean-Do's children, who is still madly in love with him despite how he abandoned her for someone else, is forced to translate over the phone to his lover. He knows how much it must hurt her, and yet he still tells her to tell his mistress, "Every day I wait for you." Man, I'm sorry, but that's pretty messed up. The mother of his children was visiting all the time, while the other bitch was M.I.A. Couldn't he just suck it up and make the first woman feel loved and appreciated? Especially since in the first ten minutes, he was sorrowfully saying that he could never make it up to her for how badly he treated her. Well, that was his chance right there, and he blew it!

I know, this was a long post. I've been behind on everything! Gah. I need to spread it out instead of bunching it all up into one big entry. I'll keep working on that.

Homeboy

Towards the end of my teenage years, I became deeply infatuated with a boy only a couple of years older. The sordid 'relationship' proved to be both dysfunctional and destructive. At the time, I thought of him as an old soul: radiant and reflective, mysterious and melancholy. Of course, now I look back and think, "The fuck?! The guy was twenty-one." No, really, how profound could he have been? He was probably still popping his pimples while having a farting contest during a wicked game of Mario Kart with the boys.

Anyway, I wrote enough about him to fill a novel in my other blog, so I'm going to move forward to the main subject of this post: Adorable. Adorable was a British indie/pop band in the 90's, part of the Shoegazing genre. Adorable also penned a song--"Homeboy"--that I considered to be the prevailing melody of the 1.5 years with my obsession with this kid. Sure, The Cure played a huge part, along with Tom Petty, Sun Kil Moon and Death Cab for Cutie...but Adorable sang the anthem. And thanks to Youtube and Myspace Music, I have been on an Adorable revival binge for the past two nights. I found the music video for the song, which I never knew existed, and I want to share it with you.



Ok, seriously though. These lyrics! They were like scripture to a dramatic, depressed, 19-year-old female yearning for love from a drugged up, emotionally unavailable fucktard, lol.

I want to drown beneath the waves
I want to dig myself a shallow grave
And hold you up for all to see
I want to cut you up
I want to watch you bleed
Ever so slowly...

You're so beautiful
You're so beautiful

It's been five years since that whole ordeal, and the song is still just as good as it was when I completely related to it. You'd think I'd be a lot wiser now about matters of the heart, wouldn't you? Here's to never again being so foolish about those fleeting and fickle feelings.

Please?