May Just Bit The Dust.

I missed the girls split the series down the middle with the Mariners, but from what I understand from some of their tweets they all had a wonderful time in Seattle. So sorry to miss them, but I suppose I will have to make an extra effort to catch them in September provided Compadre hasn't up and moved to some place insane.

I had a lovely time nonetheless. Working on my tan. Hit the Farmer's Market. Couldn't find a stitch at Barneys. Went to Amoeba and spent way too much money. They were practically giving Bones Season 5 away!! Smiths bootleg and Morrissey reissue obviously. The bootleg I will not be able to enjoy until I have the old turntable repaired. Nice incentive to get a move on that I suppose. Tapas.

I was fortunate enough to visit the Huntington Library and Gardens once again. Always a treat and I always seem to appreciate it more and more with each visit. You never have enough time to see everything. How profound.

Yesterday we jetted to Malibu really early and were just in time to beat the rush. Had a nice hike up and down Point Dune then down and up the beach. Resisted the urge to gather shells and all the things that come naturally on the beach. Remembered things.

Had lunch back in Malibu and had to do some shopping. Went to RRL again and still don't think I get it. The guy was really sweet so he talked me into a couple of tee shirts. Not really. He had me at "these are flying off the shelf". Next was Ron Herman and they had some dope surf inspired gear. I actually did not buy a stitch of Free City and I'm still wondering what has happened that is different. Missed the Yankees series and didn't gobble up Free City when presented with an entire wall of the stuff. What is it?

Just Like Honey.

So this Fringe business has just been knocking me every which way. Josh Jackson is not helping on that score to say the least. I caught a glimpse of it naturally when it was playing after The Bones and it was an obvious yes, please. All you have to do is mention alternate universe and I'm in the chair with popcorn and gin. And there's again the Josh Jackson with his just smacked upside the head good looks. I can't take my eyes off it really.

And lately getting myself caught up to last season has taken over every television/DVD viewing moment. There is no baseball. No rugby. There is no Upstairs Downstairs. No Miss Marple. No Future. I suppose I could be being just a skosh dramatic I mean I still have that haul of Barbara Cartland novels to devour when this is all over and I come down with a bump.
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And speaking of bumps...

An idle stroll through the Farmers Market was punctuated with a wait in line for quesadilla. Two people in line and two people working so I estimated the wait would be reasonable... Apparently not. The lady cow in front of me was just fit to be tied. Arms crossed, lips pursed. Kept glaring at the nervous cook as he was steadfastly preparing the other gentleman's meal. Poor thing finally had all she could take and stomped her hoof she did and stormed off. I couldn't be more delighted. I was next in line and all the more close to my Thursday quesadilla.

Farmers Market is always good for a chuckle and a bite.

All Will Move Away.

Move to the Southside of the building has resulted in much better mobile reception if also annoying views of the Ritz Carlton spectacle and an oversized picture of Russell Reynolds ala Green Lantern all up and down The Hotel Figueroa. I mean top to bottom up and down. The all consuming hatred for all thing AT&T slowly transmuting into mild disaffection.

I'm able to listen to news a lot more than usual. BBC obviously. Realized that Libya is not another Suez and think sweet. Noticing increasing intolerance (almost to the level of the recent khaki dog-pile) for the overuse of the word "narrative". Have little patience for the use generally unless one's discussing literature or maybe a film that happens to be 9 hours long. They have those right? An explanation, a grasping and confused one even, does not constitute a "narrative". Actually it makes me think about this old time folks-y anecdote. Something about painting tits on a bull.

I Get Everything.

The Season finale of Bones almost did me in. I collapsed right before it came on that's how frightening it was. Not to worry I was able to watch it upon regaining consciousness. Makes one ponder the meaning of the word "consciousness" really.

Well, as I'm sure you know and everyone in the world is talking about, the show was amAzing. Cute guy they killed off from Southland I blogged about a few months ago was on and I'm like really? Booth and Bones are having some kind of immaculately conceived love child and I'm like what? Four months of emptiness, no TV despair, going on vacation and actually doing things in the sun angst and I'm like can we hold off for a sec?

The last season finale of Bones saw me lose my shit and up and quit my job. Pointlessly fighting the urge to do exactly the same thing as we write. Some potentially internecine squabble broke out yesterday over how many lights to turn on. I skipped off to the kitchen to snag some popcorn so I could watch the spectacle but when I got back the situation had been sadly diffused. Fuckers. Limped back to kitchen with my popcorn and flipped through an issue of Rolling Stone. Think, Robert Plant couldn't be more puckered. Finished popcorn and enjoyed some tea. Passed the time. By the time I clued back into work I was just in time to seem interested in this sad douche desperately trying to form a few phrases. Ask myself (hopefully silently) whether I roll my eyes in moments like this? It all goes by so fast and here we are Friday upon us. Lets.

Kanye And I Sending Texts.

New Hermes catalog came in the mail yesterday. Quite excited but a little confused as to how they found me after only 2 months in my new digs. Someone must have floated my contact info. Maybe it was renewing the old Country Life subscription? Whatever the case, some things I'm simply intent not to dwell on.

Famous Moments Of Desitny.

Flounced out of my apartment this morning thinking I was God's gift to fabulousness. In the zone. Clothes, peerless. Accessories, irrelevant. Soundtrack, exquisite. Tan, have a nice base thank you very much. Had it going on all in my mind all the way into work and thank the stars in heaven I popped into Starcocks because the nice lady who knows my name and my drink was kind enough to point out that I had suntan lotion on my cheek. It was eye cream actually. Dermalogica. Get some. I had forgotten to rub it in I was in such a rush to make my train this morning flawlessly turned out and all. But as I thought back on the train ride in front of all those people (6 or maybe 7) I have got to say I really wanted to tear the Universe inside-out right there on the spot.
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I'm starting to feel bad I keep beating my high score at Missile Command. At work. I mean I'm really kicking the shit out of it although I am yet to see this "Doomsday" weapon they keep mentioning. I know I shouldn't feel bad because it is well within the parameters of my internal office guide. No physical violence or public deification is involved. And really I have nothing else to do while I wait for my computer to figure shit out.

I'm beginning to notice that they don't really get "tech" all that much down here. I mean compared to Seattle obviously. No one seems to questions the assumption that things just take this long. One guy the other day was complaining about "bandwidth" and I had to interrupt and ask him if that was a "biblical reference". How quickly the lights can go out. Which incidentally I recently discovered I am able to activate with my phone. I used to do it every morning when I arrived, but then I started to worry I was getting drunk on the power. No, better practice my mouse clicking and key punching skills instead.

When You Most Expect It.

Sometimes I can be such a dizzy cow I really can. There were some indications, vague emails really which indicated some depo or mediation or something I was in charge of may have in fact gone to hell in a handbasket, and so I tried to play a little defense without looking like I was. Still took my 2:00 walk through 7th & Fig obviously, but too much stress all the same.

Convinced myself I was getting fired so I cleared out my desk and took everything home with me. Especially my Lapsang Souchong tea and Visine. Well I suppose everything seems better after a good night's sleep cause I woke up and realized I was getting all in a state for nothing.

The bar has been set so permanently low at that ass festival called my office that all I really have to do is refrain from hanging from the walls and playing with my own feces to not get fired. I mean someone asked me if it's an insult to retards to refer to one of our coworkers as retarded. Then the same person sent me an email telling me I could "start at the front cause I really know you like it from behind."

I get dizzy sometimes with it all.

Now it's about the auto-pilot, or my guide to keeping my nose clean.

Settle into office. push some of the number letter squares on the keyboard device, move the mouse, click on some items of seeming import, put in some Visine, make some tea, thank the maker, answer some emails in a sufficiently curt manner as to indicate I'm occupied with something more important, listen to some news, get pissed at other people's simple minded opinions and poor grammar, talk to the homophobe frat boy and try not to stare at his ass, 11:00 a.m. is time for soup, no exceptions, go to the bathroom remind myself not to relieve myself in the kitchen, take the elevator to another floor and walk around that floor like I'm there for a reason, go back to my desk and push some more buttons, sigh loudly so the annoying paralegal with a lisp can hear me, wait for my boss to come in and mutter something incomprehensible and remember to nod approvingly and respond appropriately, confirm in an email, read some tweets paying particularly close attention to any from Cher or a Yankee, read the God forsaken Facebook, quietly judge people from high school who update others on their child's bowel movements, do the bathroom thing again but this time to just splash some water on my face, walk back remembering not to scream at the space pig that hogs the microwave on the way, look online for another job, send a text to my friend and meet her for our daily walk, come back buy frozen yogurt, listen to The Strand on BBC, enter my billing, make my 3:00 tea and enjoy it in perfect silence, read some emails trying to unload Dodgers tickets, consider it and then decide no, start to tidy my desk and prepare to leave, leave all personal belongings since it would be absurd to get fired, leave at 3:30 on the button, at 3:31 receive daily text reminder not to take a dump in the elevator bay and comply, at 3:32 receive a similar text reminder not to jump into the pretty fountain in the lobby, catch the 3:41 train to North Hollywood and enjoy a book on some obscure member of the British Royal Family until my stop. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

I have a ton of stuff to carry back to work.:(

Anything With Enormous Boots.

I think I may have recovered from the Royal Wedding. Think so and maybe just to the extent I can acknowledge other ideas and concepts.

I've been digging this Swedish label Soulland like seriously. I don't know what happened. Like a bug just bit me, but I think it may actually be called a meme.

Whatever it is I may need to get me some. There's a cute little joint in Venice that sells it and I have already tried to wrangle my friend into taking me (driving to Venice is like a fucking carnival ride) but I think he may be pissed at me for bagging on the Billykirk purse he wanted to buy.

All I told him was that Blackbird was for dick culture retail losers and his purse looked like something Kurt Hummel would rock after second period. Like right before he gets his ass slammed into a locker and wonders when it could possibly get any better. Maybe after you get a function and stop walking around like a tired ass tragedy with an enormous shiny purse, but I'm grasping here I really am.

Concepts and ideas.