If I Ever Marry...

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Did you hear that?

That, my friend, is the sound of lovely plans, in the very early stage of the birthing process. Plans which include visiting an old adobe in my hometown. Plans which include venturing out to this once humble abode (don't be confused by the switching b's and d's), and photographing like never before. There isn't much to these plans, but they are special to me. They have been eating at me for some time now, whispering sweet nothingnesses in my ears. I've been there once before, in the kind old days of first grade, when Taylor Waters was the coolest tomboy in school, and I found jealousy in Gage Weaver's talent at the seat of a piano. I am constantly reminded; the old sign by the freeway, having been replaced by some "Jesus is #1" nonsense, once having proclaimed the existence of a hidden waterfall in the valleys of Vista. Who could have thought? It's up to me to find this treasure, and enjoy it for all those who'll never know it's pleasures. I just might wear a flouncy skirt, and bring along a picnic blanket, some sweet tunes, and a journal to hide my thoughts in. With luck, it will happen on the morrow. Until then, I'll only dream of it.

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Henry,

You're an asshole.

And yet, I read on.

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Cussin' Good.

Fantastic Mr. Fox really was fantastic. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that I've been infatuated with Roald Dahl since the age of five, or because of my interest in stop-motion animation, or because of the fact that Wes Anderson, Bill Murray, Jason Schwartzman, Willem Dafoe, Meryl Streep and George Clooney were involved with it, or perhaps because of all of these things, stirred up in a vat of pure appeal; but this movie really blew my socks off. Sockless, I wander the streets, still convinced that this was the best film I've seen all year.

Highlights:
-"I don't have a bandit mask, but I modified this tube sock."
-"We look good."
-"Yeah. We do."

"I can fit through there...You wanna know why? ... Because I'm LITTLE."

Clay Jarvis Cocker cameo. ("I was just kind of making it up as I go along...")

Rat. Is it strange that I am slightly attracted to a pencil-thin claymation rat character, played by Willem Dafoe? God, I hope not.

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Prrrease to help the planet.

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Pure Necessity

Happy T(of)urkey Day!

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This would be perfect for the mantle...

Truly difficult; that's how it has been for me to pull myself away from the local antique stores of late. I have been imagining my future living habitations, and I can hardly keep myself from snatching up little nifties and photographs to adorn those welcoming walls. This past weekend, I went to a friend's birthday dinner, in her new house, which she had just the day prior, moved into. It was lovely. Very relaxed and cheery. The kitchen was just as I had imagined someday inhabiting, cozy, with vintage cooking utensils and seeming relics adorning the walls, as if they were appreciated on a daily basis. There was a breakfast nook, and tea lights (sunken into delicate glass teacups) strewn about in a few select places throughout the house and yard. There were twinkle lights of all nationality, hidden amidst the branches of the shady trees. It was a beautiful set-up, and it made me jealous to think of all of the relaxing evenings which must be spent there, and all of the light bugs who must happily make their summerly visits.

[A highlight of the evening was surely the ice-cream cake on which was written (for our Australian friend), "America, Fuck Yeah!"]

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Gimme Gimme.

Lately, I've been listening to heaps of the good old jazz days, drifting into dreamlike states, wishing I had been there to drink it all in, to hear the trumpets, feel the sweet sounds of pure music swim 'round me. We seemed to understand things better then. We went dancing. We appreciated the simple pleasures in life. We played music as a sense of expression of the current issues, rather than a mere beatbox tune to snap your fingers to. There was feeling back then. There was life. There was rhythm and blues. Wasn't there?

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This is the place where my dreams come from.

(So very excited.)

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And you!

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Fixin' for a ride.

I underwent a wondrous naptime last night. I can't recall my dreams, but they must have been splendid. I slept in my warm coat, and awoke to the coziest of feelings. Today: Pumpkin Patch Picking, a lazy bicycle stroll, reading, and work celebrations of the day on which Columbus claimed "motherlicker" status. I've been watching the Mighty Boosh. I'd really like to head down to San Diego and spend the day riding around, stopping in at intriguing shoppes and cafes, photographing, etc., but I haven't the time. Next weekend. Promise. And a visit to the little mongrel, Baja. Oh, how I miss that little dog wisdom.

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Facenastics!

The rest of me may get old and flabby, but my facial guns will live on.

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Change is in the wind.

I'm really not digging the voice of this blog, as of yet. It sounds all too attemptedly elegant and cheesy-peesy. Let's get a little more raw and cultish, shall we?

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Thanks kid!

Today, I was driving home from class, feeling pretty dandy about the weather being so blustery and splendid. I was sitting in a line of cars and, being the curious human that I am, I found myself scanning the faces in the adjacent vehicles. My panoramic gaze stopped short on the face of a smiling little black kid, probably ten or eleven. His face was squeezed between his seatbelt and the window, as he tried to look back at me from his position in the front seat. His brother was sitting in the back seat, probably a little older. Being the weirdo that I am, I made a face at the former taking advantage of one of my many hidden talents. He started laughing hysterically, and then dropped coyly underneath the window. I pretended to forget, and took a swig of water as I saw him creep up, eyes first, from his hiding place. When I looked again, he was wearing a mile-wide smile, and waving. I waved back vigorously, excited about this new secret friendship. This went on for quite a while, as I passed them, and vice versa. Finally, our paths began to split, and as I glanced over my shoulder, I saw his little hands pop out of the window, shaking with fervor as we exchanged a last blow fish face and laughter on both our parts. It may sound corny but it's amazing how good I feel now! I really wish that it didn't take a child's mindset to make eye contact with a stranger. C'mon guys, it's a new generation. "We will prevail."

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I have a girl crush on Audrey Tautou.

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Fancy a cycle?

Oh, to join in.

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Fall, won't you be my neighbor?

As it is nearing that time of year, my thoughts are consistently turning their attention towards Julian. It's the place I'll miss most, when I leave. It's tradition, and it brings a sense of harmonious calm, and comfort, when I think of the brisk, chill air, the wind in the russet-colored leaves, and the familiar faces of the local elderly folk who endure, day-in and day-out, the many tourists who draw near for that fine apple pie and a temporary mental dismissal of reality.

Fall is my favorite time of year. It boasts, humbly, of sweet, savory smells, blustery winds and coats and scarves of warm and endearing colors. It makes me think of Winnie the Pooh, and teases me with the wish for memories of FDR's fireside chats and the crackling of old radios as hundreds listened to the warmth of his benevolent voice. I ache for one of my grandfather's soft, gentle hugs as we curled up together on his sofa chair, him reading an old western aloud, and I (a child of five) listening to the age and wisdom which rang clearly throughout his sweet, old-man voice. I can't stop thinking about him, and the opportunities I've lost, in hearing the sound of his voice ring true once more.

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Film nights are the best of all nights.

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Let's be reasonable.

I could never get up the nerve to do it myself, but if ever someone is ingenious enough to purchase one of these for me, I should be forever content. Everyone could use a nice pillow companion!

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I don't always watch music videos, but when I do, I prefer Oren Lavie.

Flying t-shirts and swimming socks?

Okay, I am pretty sure that this is how I dream.

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Daffodils

I read this in class yesterday, and underwent immediate transformation into the life of a happier and more content individual. Wordsworth, there's no way you weren't a ladies man.

"Daffodils"

[Willie Wordsworth]

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they

Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;

A poet could not be but gay,

In such a jocund company!

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

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Support The Cause

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Ah, memories!

This movie is, quite possibly, the best film that I have ever experienced. No matter the age I continue to climb towards, I shall never tire of it. I am quite convinced that, if given the chance, I would watch it daily.

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Epic Fail.

High points in my life are handed over to me in the guise of sudden realizations and simplistic accomplishments. I truly cannot express the extreme and overwhelming joy that I receive upon unraveling a silly license plate scramble. This process is somewhat dangerous for me, in the driving sense, as I become utterly enthralled and can, quite easily, lose sudden control over certain brain functionings. Upon sighting a complicated license plate, typically Californian, I am struck. I creep forward, suddenly aware that the driver may be examining my thought processes in silent observance. I begin to sound every possible phrase or accronym out, and typically am able to accomplish my goal and continue in my daily life before the driver is out of view. It is only times like that of Tuesday night, when I am completely and utterly stumped; when I come close to following the driver home in order to uncover the mystery which may haunt my entire being. For who, indeed, drives around Vista in a construction-esque truck with the license plate: I Y R U. The driver made a right, and it took all of my common decency and moral upbringing to spring forth from me in order to not follow course. Instead, I raced home, not wanting to waste a single second of this opportunity to discover life's meaning in the form of a Vistan's license plate. I hopped online and made a search. This is what I found, and it is ever so dissapointing: International Yacht Racing Union. No deep meaning, absolutely no connection with the vehicle, no accomplishment on my part. My life feels empty and pointless. And so, it is without further ado, that I step out into sunlight, in search of a new and exciting (worthwhile) license plate. Goodbye, my friends, for the quest is on!

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Okay Farfel, Get Your Shoes On!

Unlike Jerry, I'm really gonna miss this little fart.

A bit o' history:

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Missing:

One friend (female, blonde, sisterly). May be spotted: driving uniquely, photographing a really neat Belgian cat, or quite possibly, scribbling a letter to her dear, and lonely, sister. If found, please bind and gag her, and send her back to me. We need some sister time.

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Moonlight Masquerade

Last night, I ventured out around midnight, setting off on my "typical midnight ride," as I have cleverly named it. The streets were silent, lamps dimly lit and the only sounds to be heard were the occasional clankings and thrummings of the arthritic bones of my bicycle, as we made our voyage across the sea of common speedbumps and roadkill. I breathed deeply, expecting a warm mixture of sage and cool summer breeze to fill my lungs, but was met instead with the overwhelming scent of society's poor standards: motor fumes, garbage "waft-age" and a bit of old meat. Pedaling, ever faster, to avoid a head-on collision with humanity, I came upon a creature whom I had never seen face-to-face before. It was darkly colored, with a thin wisp of white, painted across its back. It scurried from one curb to the other, as I swung accidentally into its path; tail risen, it loaded it's venomous darts. In sudden realization of this strange creature, I swerved wildly, in hopes of dodging its scented bullets. Luckily I averted the trouble, as it was never seen again, most likely having hurled itself into the tall grasses which are my neighbors weeds.

I rode on, filled with gratitude as well as splendor, for being one so fortunate to have experienced this creature's often smelled, but rarely spotted presence. Coming to a fork in the rode, I started off one way, but upon looking back, saw what seemed to be another furry little critter who appeared quite mesmerized by the glorious moon above us. It looked not in my direction, but rather towards the stars, and as I slowly turned to befriend it, it hopped off, a few feet at a time, stopping every moment or so to take in, once more, the sight of that resplendent midnight sun. As I rode past, deciding to not disturb the little fellow, I fell into a happy crevice of life. It was peaceful, simple and noted as a night to remember for the independence of the soul. May it live on.

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