flagrant

trona pinnacles railroad crossing- mojave desert, california

flagrant insanity tour photos: 1 2

- as close as we could get to the airplane graveyard at mojave
- "really good beef jerky" at gus's place in olancha
- various photographs from the trona pinnacles national landmark


naked, overweight woman-- jawbone canyon store billboard
photo courtesy of invalid friend

ridiculous | what i think about this entire site.

stranger you | invisible me

as the clock struck tock, eye directed invalid friend chuck to rouse an airline reservations sales agent, implement myflagrant airfare waiver rights, and appropriately reschedule myflagrant cheapass ticket to singapore. a departure from los angeles is now secured for the 14th day of may.

the passion of ocd demands the following: one specifically nervy event transpired, and this transaction will now eliminate a subsequent event from taking place. the specific example: eye can now guarantee that the world is not lucky enough to see flagrantme die from contracting the sars virus.


"how much will the airfare increase if eye request an alternate routing?"
nope, there was no additional charge.

"fine, try to book a day long layover at tokyo-narita."
how interesting-- no additional fee applied.

"good chuck, book the flight from tokyo-narita to honolulu for a second day-long layover in hawaii."
and again, no fee.

"hmm... tell the agent to route flagrantme from honolulu to sea-tac and onward to detroit metro, then back to los angeles for the sake of accumulating more frequent flyer miles via minneapolis or memphis."
of course, enormous additional fees would have applied.



due to myflagrant refusal to cancel this trip, perhaps eye will never hear from family again in a form other than grief, anger, or misunderstanding.

motherfigure, who told flagrantme on july 30, 1993 to let the anorexia take flagrantme "so it could be easier on the family" now virtually demands that eye remain home.

"flagrant, you could die."

so what?

might she often confuse herself, or is this fat-head flippancy a window into her wishy-washy life? eye do not care if what was spoken was provoked out of anger or fear. when eye am in a state of irrational fear and/or anger, eye never find myflagrantself using the intensity as an excuse to say things eye don't mean. eye will never allow a retraction of any sentences which were specifically spoken to stir up myflagrant emotions or a situation.

how could anyone ever forget what she said?

consider:
and, how can she forget?
she designed and executed the sentence.
she gathered and then produced all effort.

consider: how do other people obtain, and also why do they retain that sleazy ability to be seen changing one's mind?

thud thud thud
thud thud thud
thud thud thud
thud thud thud
thud thud thud
thud thud thud

[thudding in time to candy's airline now.]

santa monica freeway, 10- los angeles, california

[coachella valley music festival weekend]

me, my ice water
and a seatbelted beast
we packed up the car
and headed out east.

the desert i've been many times this year
nervous, concerned
and with spf 50
my nose still sunburned.

words may have changed but dude still exists
it came from the very first stranger i kissed
"doood the hives suck."
the hives, for chrissake, well who gives a fuck?

now how many times must i step around
bodies bent over, heaving
my arms in the air
"now that's it i'm leaving."

then what on my overworked car should appear
but flyers for gigs that no one will hear.
and they heard me complain as i sped out of sight
"get the hell out of my way, i'm not driving all night."

who needs a glastonbury festival companion?

answer quickly, before the quasi-pain of frustration
jokingly
relocates itself as i bang my forehead to this desk.

thud.
thud.
thud.
thud.

airfare.
ground transportation.
glastonbury tickets...

it's all covered--
no reason to say no.
let's go.

i despise sweaty, drunk during the daylight, young adults with too much exposed un-toned flesh, and though i know what i am getting involved with when i agree to attend these monumental moments of hell, a switch will flick between yesterday and next month and if i ever am questioned about the coachella rumble-flesh festival of 2003 my first response will be: oh fun!

i'm late. i'm late. i'm late.
of course no one thinks i am dead.

bunbury asked flagrantme if eye was having money behaviors again- had he said money problems eye would feel angry and ignored but eye'm shocked he has been paying attention and used myflagrant language. he then signed over his paycheck pay to the order of flagrant and left it on myflagrant desk.
- eye said: how does this help flagrantme?
- he said: do you need more?
eye have not dissected this behavior yet so eye should not expect him to understand it either but his response is as ridiculous and in the same vein as the aforementioned notscott live-in not-necessarily-a-boyfriend who continually presented flagrantme with 20,000 calories a day when eye said not to and was just giving it back to the world.

depression:
- took the high road, the moral choice.
- did not cheat.
- did the right thing.
- ended up fucked and out $120,000.
- know the gatekeeper in heaven probably won't remember.
- cannot stop feeling stupid.
- should be pleased.
- wearing a necklace made out of window.
- acting out a choked-up, breathless scream.

damn how the telephone still has not learned to dial itself! only successful in avoiding customer service dirge, i still have northwest airlines tickets which show wednesday departures for seattle seatac, tokyo narita, and singapore changi.

brain says: "pick up the phone and change your date of departure."
i cannot do that.

brain says: "why?"
there is no fee charged to change this airline ticket (due to sars epidemic spreading throughout asia and the war in iraq) but i cannot decide between return dates. there are too many options which makes it an overwhelming decision. what if the newly selected flights fall in a new fare class and require me to pay a large difference or supplement to the original airfare? any talk about unnecessarily spending additional money makes me very nervous. i am not frantic about food or calories allotment, as that system is defined and adhered to, so anorexia and obsessive compulsive disorder have moved on to include calculating and restricting earnings or spending.

brain says: "pay the difference or pick a return date that allows the same fare."
i can't choose a return date! which one is best? i don't know without asking and then still, the fares can change by the minute. a fare increase conflicts with a sudden surge in ridiculous financial behaviors. my platinum money market account just got hit with a $20 fee and i am obsessed with this- actually collected the discarded dasani water bottles from other morning joggers while out exercising just to take to the recycler. i even turned off my refrigerator to save money but it doesn't alleviate the anxiety over this minuscule fee. $20! it's nothing and i know this is no big deal, but if i convince myself the fee is nothing to fret about, i will be filled with the embarrassment of greed. in nine trading days i made a 98% return on my entire day trader account and i still bought my 2-litre diet coke dinner with a free 2-litre coupon. it is getting weirder.

might i have sold my soul as a teenager? i remember wishing to be the eccentric rich aunt who had been to most countries but died alone in a fantastic house nobody had ever been invited to see... that old lady from loony tunes cartoons who burned money in the fireplace to keep warm... but instead turned into the girl who was too shy to walk down to the post office and buy a money order for a dollar and wrote four checks when she was only allowed three without a fee. i could give out $20 easily to someone for something tangible, but my mind is punishing myself for being too shy to queue for a money order and buying myself the freedom to not work through my issues and therefore spending $20 to write one check.

rich or poor. one or the other. that is how it will be and since i don't want a castle, but don't want to live in box either, i need to obsess about saving money.

i'm not scared of tigers.
i might be scared of nina hagen.

if people are over an hour late to meet me, the routine is to assume a tragedy has taken place. i shake and begin labored breathing -- perfectly acceptable, given my living situation -- but then reject it by stating "i am only selfishly worrying about myself." emotions turn right off.

"fine, everyone might as well die now."
"fine, leave me here."

i am not healthy enough to be all alone on earth and don't yet want the push. i'm not important enough for the fates to kill off everyone i know just to teach me how to live but that's what i imagine will eventually happen when ready yet lingering in doubt.

they get a half thought prior to the rejection:
their soul must be in a strange transition period.
i'm all alone and folding laundry for no reason.
why not throw all of this away? tangible goods are unnecessary.
take my fear away i could live.

yesterday, bunbury was supposed to show up around 600pm, did not, and while he does have a strong grasp on the wrath of 'stan, apparently the slimy norwegian does not understand the word toast. this is good due to my not owning of a toaster. he is so toast and i sit here and wait. turns out he is unreachable. on cue, i accidentally travel through a wealth of emotions, and when my nose finally doubled in size from fear and tears, realized that the only way to get slimy model boy to reappear on earth was through superstition-- or i could go to bed. either choice would probably work, but i decided to throw my clothes on the floor, get in bed, and look at the world through a blanket. the door opened after midnight and bunbury echoed an excuse of needing some me time.
i said: "good, it matches your gay pants."
he said: "you're starting it."
i said: "you started it by pointing it out."

we went out at 2am and drove around. he filled my gas tank so i could go talk to joseph arthur this afternoon in san diego before becoming actual size at the they might be giants show, then we made plans to keep our shirts on at the coachella valley music festival all day saturday. we will not wear white stripes on sunday... and we all lived happily ever after in an imaginary chocolate fog though his appeared quite realistic.

it wasn't a fluke he asked me to play useless on my bass.

while researching parole violations to finally take care of invalid friend's little employee problem, i learned that it is not uncommon for prisoners in los angeles county to be transported between prisons in horse trailers. i am having a lot of anxiety over this issue with invalid friend's co-worker, and though i say i would lie, cheat, and commit identity fraud for him, there is no way i can bring myself to do that. in seeking out a way to legally eliminate the parolee just means the process will take longer, and the anxiety has to be extended.

walking along the beach without the self conscious spotlight shining, i carried my shoes while skirting the ocean's edge. i felt an incredible freedom in being alone and unknown but in the wide open where anyone could see me. i stopped and looked at the birds for practice. why is she stopping to look at the birds? you have obviously seen birds before, move on. slowly i am beginning to assume that people are not going to critique any motion i make but i always consider it. alone. i was free. passing the vending machines on the return to my car, i was thinking that life is getting less fearful and that i actually enjoy going out. steps from my car, i panicked when i recognized the familiar face of a blogger sitting on a bench.

who was the blogger i saw at the beach? i won't write that here. it was like a strange celebrity sighting where i wanted to interfere but also felt as though i was violating an unwritten code just by seeing someone in a different form... plus i was wearing my big ol' ugly grey coat and feeling frumpy. i was very surprised to see her because i originally thought my first blogger sighting would be tony pierce or maybe cameron mcewan when he finally moves from camarillo to los angeles.

no matter how good things are, the greatness always seems to become a problem or interfere.

in just over one week, my favorite $6 day trading stock has virtually doubled. certainly this is good news as i have held it during its surge. the problem is how i have been buying and selling this favorite stock fairly consistently for several months. my daily average totals more than invalid friend's two week paycheck, plus i finish this occupation by 7am and it gives me the lovely lack of incentive to go out and work for someone else. well now what??? the stock has shot up to $11. what's the point? i can knock around a thousand shares of a $6 stock a few times a day without too much foot tapping, but not $11- not yet.

in malibu, where i occasionally have a lonely, uncomfortable stay in a house on the beach, i hiked up the hill to find flowers as tall as me and little salamandar critters crossing the dirt path. even from up there i would not call it a million dollar view, but the sign nearby said a 118 foot parcel of land would be $5,500,000.
fyi that is only $82,500 a year in property taxes. it makes me sick.

> write me back and tell me you are not going to singapore.
> -love, mom

maybe she is just forwarding me the same e-mail over and over...??

i already told her i had an invitation to the martin gore concert at the london astoria that week, another ticket to see him here in los angeles a few days later, and that i would try to go to singapore and malaysia the week afterwards but i have not yet acted on changing my tickets, rearranging accommodations, or even purchasing the round-about mileage run to england. i am not too worried about my parent's opinions, usually, but i will be seeing them soon and they are still annoyed that i went to bosnia alone.

this whole singapore trip came about because i was going to fly home this june to see the family and the particular dates i would travel price out to over $600 round trip. i have more than enough frequent flyer miles to use to get home, but i tend to hoard them to spend on spontaneous trips to europe. last year on a whim, i decided to redeem some miles for a flight the next day to an amsterdam art reception and then continue on to istanbul the following day- i love it. i am not spending my current miles to fly to middle america unless someone dies and i need to go immediately. a roundtrip to singapore fits into this picture by costing less than a roundtrip to my parent's home, plus that airfare accrues more than enough miles for me to fly home for free, thus i can fly to singapore and to my parent's for less than the cost of just flying to my parent's... plus i had originally selected flights that allow me an 11 hour layover in narita, japan and a nine hour layover in honolulu. that is ample time to bullet into tokyo, bus into waikiki, and shop. unless i contract the sars virus, and remember that i have not even had the common cold since early 1990, i cannot see how i could go wrong with this plan.

i am a little superstitious
now i am struggling but creating reasons to stay on earth
death in the form of sars might come looking for me.

alone in my home, i was waving my arms around to emphasize any words and feelings that my intentionally rabid cartoon character voice may have omitted as i read blogs aloud. noise is good sometimes, and i wasn't too aware of my falsetto opera voice singing the praises of a blogger's recent trip to portland, that is, until two toothless recited men knocked on my door.

well crap, i'm making too much noise to act absent, i thought, and then actually bounded across the room and cheerily flung open the door. obviously, whoever would have been knocking was trying to sell me cable because never has there been anyone ever who would knowingly come into my lair... except once, and he tapped very lightly as if hoping no one would answer.

two men, i say men because i figure they look about 30, had a stunned look when i answered the door. they were scripted and trying to sell me magazine subscriptions for the boys and girls club of america though it initially took them two uninterrupted minutes of explaining a point system for prizes before i knew what they wanted from me.

note: i use situations like this to perfect my skill at making people squirm.
note: i decided to only make direct unwavering eye contact and not blink.
note: unfortunately i was thinking dontblink dontblink dontblink the entire time.

they told me this was their first night in california, that they were from georgia, and have i ever been to georgia and if i had, how did i like it?
me: once when i was five years old- the people were very slow.
flagrant 1, salesmen 0

them: maybe a nice college student like you would like some magazines?
me: thank you, but i graduated like 20 years ago.
note: obviously i was lying.
salesman #1 said whoa and #2 abruptly forgot his speech.
flagrant 2, salesmen 0

them: we thought you went to the same college as us!
me: you think i go to college in georgia?
flagrant 3, salesmen 0

them: no, santa monica city college.
me: ...and this is your first night in california?
flagrant 4, salesmen 0

them: you have very pretty eyes and you might like to buy magazine subscriptions for the boys and girls club of america.
flagrant 4, salesmen 1
me: but how do i know what they like to read?
them: what?
flagrant 5, salesmen 1

them: we have american photo and it gets us 68 points.
me: do you have sluts, losers and proana skanks: socal school scene zine?
them: no.
me: i write for them.
them: what?
me: i'm kidding.
flagrant 6, salesmen 1

me: nevermind, do you have oor?
them: no. we could show you our id, if you don't believe where we're from.
note: the driver's license was issued in new jersey.
flagrant 7, salesmen 1

me: so maybe i could just make a donation to your club?
them: no we are just selling magazines.
me: ouch, then i don't think so.
flagrant 8, salesmen 1

when the grocery store cashier called me sweetie, i felt myself inwardly freeze though my actions didn't veer from counting out the correct change. sweetie? i had thought the cashier was two years older than me, tops, and stand by that opinion. if i had a girlfriend who hung out with me, would i call her that? of course not. it was obvious that the cashier thought i was much younger than her.

i get that a lot and still get asked out mostly by teenagers and young undergraduates. a recent conversation with someone, who i just discretely found out is a similar age as me, ended with the usual banter except he added 'be good, behave' to his farewell. okay. later i asked and confirmed his thought i was actually under 21. this is all based on my body size, and lack of uv rays from years of hibernating indoors- now i feel lucky anorexia was severe but only became grave after my height soared- or i may have grown to look strangely stunted.

driving in the oldbutnew car last night, i torment my passenger with hokey hoppy emo indie anthems by the postal service. passenger about dies but this is a sign of his musical advancement and i am secretly glowing. i repeat the joke of the week by swearing i will make him attend any of their hokey hoppy shows. passenger is rather annoyed. track advances to joy division's transmission. passenger requests a tag along date for any of their upcoming los angeles appearances. "i'll even go with you to london to see these guys."

i seem to me missing a long post about being visited by two toothless recited men. i'll try to duplicate it again later but i cannot recreate the stomach dropping relief and somewhat corny entry that i so carelessly sent to nowhere.

thank you easter bunny! bawk! bawk!

after much agony, i sped to the white chocolate cookie contraband grocery store and bought one pound of hormone-filled dead bird. this wasn't a fancy-schmancy place, but since it was on super sale, the flesh had been tossed and stacked into oozing blobs behind glass.

i wasn't feeling like lucette in that old morrissey video whatsoever, that is, until reaching for the diseased wrapped squish, so my head was cleared by looking at the dead chocolate rabbits. common markets should stock more than 35 varieties of chocolate easter bunnies for the masses-- especially when 32 of the 35 selections are milk chocolate and hollow -- just in different wrappings. why not (the mass next to me suggested) dark chocolate, mocha, premium white, vanilla, light, max brenner kosher, lindt truffle, the minty american psycho kind, with almonds, without, with peanuts, bailey's special ritter-sport squares, chocolate covered cherry, carob, and what about peanut butter? one solid easter bunny formed from a recipe similar to reese's peanut butter flavored baking chips.

the store was sold out of contraband cookies, thank god, or i'd be typing this from hell.

i am suddenly surrounded by crime at my los angeles condo. a new $75,000 lexus has been broken into, a motorcycle has been stolen, a thief sliced open a j.crew clothing order that the postal carrier left at my door and only snatched the $150 shoes. the jackass left the bikini, gee thanks. see what i get for leaving the house? this random thievery makes me want to sit home and wait for the mail because i am already on edge due to waiting for "music related deliveries" which, given this state of watched pot, will never arrive. once i stop obsessing, the packages will show up and immediately be shelved.

lately, a substitute mailman is commanding this route. i cannot ever get the regular postal carrier to leave a package at my door, even when leaving a signed note, and now this new guy is unknowingly distributing my stuff to underhanded snoops in the complex. these theives don't understand the value of the crap i order. it's good stuff, it is! i think if i inform the substitute that there is a protocol to follow here-- packages are not left unattended in doorways, that they need to be returned to the post office for redistribution or collection -- he will relate that packages which do not require signatures can be left at a carrier's discretion. well yeah, get some! knowing what he is going to say isn't the problem, i just need to formulate my response in advance. my imagination lends itself to name calling and what if i knock him down out of frustration and steal his little mail cart? never happen. i'm composed. too damn shy. i've seen the hot pink muumuu wearing russians who live here and their mail isn't as cool as mine. ...and stairs, there are stairs and a fire-door to contend with. sigh. oh no, it's great black friday am i waiting here for the mail delivery for no reason? what about ups...? oh no, is the bank closed? if i drive the 90 miles to the bank it will be closed. ahhhh. my reason to remain is strained.

90 mile drive to the bank: this is the best savings plan ever.

it's karma anyway, i've been playing god with people's lives all week (taxes, evictions, and employment) and what do i have to complain about? nothing. ex-live-in not-necessarily-a-boyfriend paid for the order and j.crew has already notified me they are redelivering my shoes. that's a great company to reship shoes to me when it isn't even their fault- i certainly didn't expect them to do that.

boxes!
crates!

high-anxiety!
high-voltage!

i'm not scared of tigers.
i'm scared of people's opinions.

shocked awake by a panic which felt like an electrical shock to the heart, i dreamt about swallowing a huge two-handled stock pot filled with mostly melted cheddar cheese. do note that the nightmare was not the problem and that this was not the aforementioned calphalon cookware intended to boil Archenemy. in addition to the jolt, it was unsettling to wake up with the impression i had fallen asleep after eating that lumpy, orange colored goo rather than giving it back to the world.

consider: how to interpret this dream should i have instead reversed the food porn and then donated to my neighbor's front door via one flimsy plastic grocery bag?

now that, the giving it back to the world eating disorder habit, hasn't been performed in a long time. am i experiencing the emotions ordinarily concealed? did purging emotions become unnecessary? useless? definitely useful, always violent, occasionally it runs out of purpose. without an allergy profile and allergic insistence, i doubt i could associate with the task.

skip ahead...

there was unnecessarily urgent weirdness of thirst this afternoon which almost sparked an anxiety attack. water, i need water. i don't want water. fluids. "fluids push fluids and there is never a need to panic about drinking water" -- this is spoken so easily from someone who never experienced the problem. water has weight. regardless of its lack of caloric content, water is still not nothing.

rule: investigate the hunger.
rule: embrace what you fear to conquer it, do not mask fear away.
rule: do not fear hunger. feel the hunger. do not drowned it out.
rule: rules of anorexia currently state to restrict all liquids.
rule: must drink on occasion in order to survive.

while clad in mental patient attire, i drove to the nearest 7-11 and ended up nervous and needing to exit immediately. the yellow wrappers found on abba zaba [not abba zabba] peanut butter taffy mesmerized the situation and trippiness ensued. how to leave the store when one is spun around with anxiety and cannot find the door? [check out the candy bar's wrapper nutrition information: 250 calories! 5 fat grams! 4 saturated fat grams! 0 cholesterol! 48 carbohydrates! 2 protein!] this panic attack happened in los angeles, not singapore, so why hide the stacks of sugar free gum? i was blinded by fear, i guess, to have accidentally motioned toward an abba zaba taffy bar instead of chewing gum. no connection was experience. no touch. no burn. no one saw. no one would have understood how the implications were seeping into my body through the skin on my fingertips. my own worst critic, almost touching that taxi-wrapped poison will excite more than enough mental chaos to endure.

i had been sitting, stalling, waiting in the car for a few minutes prior to going into the store. it didn't matter that the intended calorie free liquid purchase would have a negligible effect on my life, but there were negative thoughts: my choice in fashion was odd. anorexia and agoraphobia didn't want to let me out of the house, let alone at an overpriced convenience store which sells sodium snacks. buying food in public is not only a crime against anorexia's esteem, but illegal in california. purchasing restricted liquids is punishable by running exercise laps around the block before, during, and after daylight hours (while wearing a quarter of one's body weight in a backpack for additional hell).

as i sat there, one seemingly drunk woman exited the 7-11 and stumbled off of the curb to the parking lot. her hair needed to be combed and wardrobe refreshed. [so far so good.] another female ("who," anorexia said, "no matter what she puts herself through, has no capacity to appear hungry until later next year") had started to choke down whatever was purchased while standing at the cash register. she hesitated, somewhat cocking her head and arm to counter a drip, attacked the raining condiment, opened the door and left. whatever her toxic orange purchase was, the food appeared to have been microwaved inside of the store. at this time in my life, i cannot imagine living that freely.

i walked in, immediately began to obsess over variety, intrigue, behavior, and then was suddenly stuck on contemplating the strange sideways vacuum of jaw breaking wonka shock tarts. consider the effect of sugar. consider the acute increase in energy, elevated mood, and rigor. consider how i might become a lunatic licking nacho cheese while reassuring myself about calcium. surely, i'd eventually lapse from the carbohydrate coma, return to my version of dead earth, and die. consider the shock tarts and artificial colors not found in nature. consider how this allows analysis on each potential reach for consumption. consider how easy it is to invalidate each choice. the store was selling hard shelled chocolate easter candy. how am i not yet sick enough to be ignorant to the existence of chocolate? easter candy-- not a good idea. photographs seen on other blogs prove that hershey's chocolate pastel eggs have a tendency to hatch open and ooze from the heat. consider ripping open the package to eat the scent. consider how the cracked pastel coating would emit a chocolate haze. consider the mess of lingering scent. rule: no messes and never nestle. hard candy? chocolate? consider if the body may be craving magnesium? craving calcium? turmoil. trauma. anorexia saw what was happening and panicked. it's safe as milk to say, i could have bought water-- but only inferior brands in enormous multi-liter sizes were on display. a gallon of water? too, too much to take.

mental patient attire is a phrase used to illustrate comfortable but essential clothing which does not usually match. even if the pieces do complement each other, the ensemble remains titled if it may draw attention from people who are not particularly well dressed. inspired by agoraphobia, its use remains at home. in times of authentic in-bed sickness, comfort could be acceptable, or when there is a need for the amygdala car wash.

- navy blue converse all stars
- drab olive shorts
- extra large grey jacket
- stringy lank hair

eating disorder rarely allow food and liquids into my life during the daytime. the convenience store could have been compared to a sleazy greyhound bus station and the dark voice seethed about this inexcusable action of venturing out into the public. driving a short distance which could easily have been walked is another rule breaker. motioning towards the ugliest wrapped confectionery in thinking it was sugar free gum, just to eliminate a potential panic attack and secure and item for departure, was wrong. i shouldn't need to buy something in order to leave the store. finally, just mentioning peanut butter taffy candy is an anorexic felony. food should never be seen, acknowledged, noted or published here. it doesn't exist, i don't have to think about it.

$47 in gas and 450 miles through coachella, the anza borrego desert, and joshua tree national park is a good way to kill a day. [additional photos]

chuck and i need to take a few american road trips, but in which direction should we point the oldbutnew car? apparently, this is the season to see the wildflowers in bloom in the anza borrego desert. we could visit the eerily burnt landscape, leftover from wildfires out in joshua tree national park. continue north through the mojave desert?

should chuck and i forget about a road trip, and instead opt for a touristic day trip to san diego? we could don 'comfortable clothes' like the midwestern tourists, and then explore the tide pools along the ocean. we have never been to see the elephant seals at (children's pool, la jolla). crossing the border into tijuana-- probably oppressively crowded, time consuming, and not too inviting.

i rather explore the nuances found in the desert.

a long (and hot) drive through geological tributary canyons and other rock formations at red rock canyon state park could be planned. what about seeing those strange limestone-tufa spires found at the trona pinnacles? should we pack a digital camera and head out to death valley?

in the right frame of mind, the minor inflection in a desert landscape can come alive to command attention and excitement.

then again, in a bad mood, "who cares about desert cliffs and unusual rocks?"

i don't know, somewhere.
i'll get out of the house and go somewhere.

invalid friend has managed to keep his management position for several months now, of course this means that the assistant manager who worked at that store and was passed up for the management position is jacking around with invalid friend.

in my other world, i gave less than no credit to invalid friend and made certain to point out his personal, moral, and physical flaws as often as possible, but as asinine and hot-tempered as he is most times, he is my family. i can accept the name narc, and am sometimes the epitome of an anonymous coward, but nobody is going to fuck with my family. i do not care who you are, or whether or not you still care for me, but if i have ever invested any time in you, i will witch twitch my nose if you should need it.

the jackball who is screwing with invalid-friend is a parolee. well this isn't even a sport and this job doesn't even call for my sh-tkicker boots. it looks like all the stones are in my pocket but i am uncertain as to throw one mother of a meteor or just sharply scatter several jagged rocks.

it is dim and this room is lit only by my computer monitor and a small lamp in the corner. it is calm and serene with only the sound of my keystrokes tapping and of several chirping birds sitting in the tree branch outside of my window. the evening is the only thing that is impending.

i don't want to be here any longer.
i want to say, "okay i give up. start over."
i have things to do and i know next time life will be harder, not easier.

what is or was my destination?
you will be rich.
you will be poor.
you will be poor with a rich life.
you will not walk.
you will die young.
you will hurt.
you will die a dramatic death.
you will be a legacy in the porn industry.
you will parent twelve children.
you will be a boy.
you will be a boy and then a girl.
time for some fun...
you will have a birthmark on your face.
you will not have a face.
you will have no legs and win a race.
you will have the world on a plate but thou shall never taste.

my life isn't exactly the hauling of concrete blocks up a hill but i have a few difficult issues ahead of me and i have been at a standstill for months because i am scared to death to be seen. i come to this blog and practice leaving footprints and it's alright now... it used to hurt. somehow i was embarrassed to see myself in print even though i was only known as a faceless adjective, occasional adverb, turned noun. it doesn't matter. any name, my name, a character, a picture, it doesn't matter who or what, but i still cringe inside when i see any concept of what is me outside of my house. my tendency to seclude myself in my apartment is based more on the fear of being judged than i ever will admit to anyone. people don't know me, but they will immediately judge me- i can't stop that from happening and so i will hide. it has become very comfortable here on these blogs, but i am too shy to post questions on forums in other sections of the web and it makes no sense to me to have a cache of nondescript e-mail addresses and still be this unbelievably shy and immobilized. contradiction: i saw my name listed on a web page devoted to calvin klein advertisements and i had no problems contacting the author and having my name removed from his listed history. it was a lie. it was me. *shrugs* you can't erase history, bet me. you can if you get there fast enough.

difficult issues ahead of me, i wrote. well, they're all going to fall apart if i don't get my damn act together but i am paralyzed by fears and shyness. none of the work i made for myself is getting finished. i have never done any of this before. how do i know how or when to proceed? i don't. i have to research little details to counter the possibility of being sued for who knows what and that research is not only time consuming, but boring, and i have a disintegrating attention span. i also am going to have to see my name in print again. use a pseudonym. okay. then i will have to see the concept which is me in print. i do not want to be posted on the dartboard of the world which is why it is okay for me to stay inside tonight and sit here every minute to think about finally finishing all i started so i can either live in eternal hell or return to earth to try again, but i think i need to decide what i believe in before i make that motion.

depression is a pain, as though someone palmed me on the forehead and it also tells me to focus on disciplinary breathing. rock forward, edge back, rock, rock, rock, breathe. rocking is supposedly comforting, but in depression's case it is just jerky and tense. bite the inside of my mouth, scrunch up my face, rock rock rock, breathe, wait. try again. pain. i can't calm down because i am trembling with fear and anxiety. something is going to happen and i am in constant fear that i will not be prepared for that something.

i don't know what i am supposed to do when i am exhausted from waiting but scared to proceed. i don't know how to illustrate anxiety or depression or sadness or crying or anger or anything at all come to think of it.
they are just meaningless pale words from an idiot who blogs the day away and they define nothing unless i use them in ostentatious appearance: sad!sad!sad! anger!anger!anger! i might just document this depression enough to become bored of it too.

eye arrived home yesterday after a long weekend of waiting, ticket stubs, and airline lower leg edema. eye had major depression all weekend- start there: depression for no reason.

note: there never is a reason for flagrantme to be unhappy. eye have opportunities and do incredible things, thus myflagrant life can be nothing but the equivalent of la-dee-da. repeat.

eye boarded an international airline flight out of excess and went to attend foreign rock concerts under the guise that this helps flagrantme get out into the world. it does in that eye get dressed with normal clothes, deal with people, take care of myflagrantself, etc, and if eye succeed with those typical situations eye get the benefit of listening to some music at the end of the project. eye very much love to say that eye traveled to foreign places and did ridiculous things but in all honesty eye am uncomfortable most of the minutes eye am gone to the point that eye quietly hum to myflagrantself constantly.

who cares...? eye am uncomfortable in myflagrant home even when every aspect of myflagrant current state of the day has completed but, somehow better, eye am unable to sit here typing and mm-mm-mmmm-ing because here it feels unnecessary.

eye travel and am on from the time eye board the initial airport shuttle service until eye reach the electronic gate at myflagrant home after returning from myflagrant trip. eye write on but possibly off defines it better. eye think eye get so on or overwhelmed when eye travel that eye dissociate and turn off which must be why eye can complete the entire trip unaffected. eye appreciate living an occasional overwhelming weekend as it leaves flagrantme no time to contemplate the neuroticisms in what is myflagrant typical life.

eye arrived home. ten minutes later, as usual, eye think eye might die but discover now these feelings come from the realization of how much better myflagrantlife could be. eye could be less dark, less filled with dread. less and less eye could be more of a word eye don't know but eye have to do it quick and therefore eye screamed out of this house to the anticipatory outside. now. now... go... eye left before eye remembered how to be sad.

the acid downpour in the open salty air.
eye worry and worry about what eye might find outside
but now eye am never surprised.

"i am this unhappy based on my hair color."

ha ha, funny. stupid.
trying to discount myself results in unstructured and unedited black comedy.

it's not fair but who said it was fair? somebody did, somewhere, someplace. i don't know. well, it was fair until you realized it wasn't fair, right?
so now you know: i went to crackerjack college.

it is an unbelievable sadness.

do you know? i mean, do you know depression? some people don't. "they understand" while stating they "don't understand" why i feel this way. why do you think like this? it's like a shyness gone mad. the people who try to talk to me go about their lives as though they are human... as if no one is watching... waiting... and whoever told them they had that freedom?

life: clear. over. done.

i am tired of feeling incapacitated by fears which never come true but am bored with the endless searching for a reason to be- the endless prodding to attend frightening situations just to prove life is okay. i am not doing this anymore. it's fine- it's always fine, but it's awful! now, being over, i can relax.

more cheers than jeers, i guess, because it's 1 - 0 but 1 should remember that i promised to take him with me. wrap it up. now let's wrap it up tidy and plan the mess.

yay, LA, i'm home. god, kill me.

[london, england]
no anxiety disorders to carry around but i am having episodes of when attitudes attack.

[london, england]
standing around at an after party, alone again, wondering how i end up in these bipolar situations of agoraphobic california v. extroverted post passport stamp when fear didn't exactly die and i don't know a soul. an older stranger approaches me, armed with a wicked grin, and states, "i know you. i completely hate you."

yeah, story of my life guy.
i was depressed.
this common phenomenon wasn't as funny as usual.

story of my life? a similar situation happened last year. a man approached me at one of the corbijn photography exhibitions in amsterdam. he placed a finger to my chest, and with a nearly incomprehensible dutch accent, mentioned reading that i had moved to california. the stranger was in the process of departing the reception and mentioned being jealous since he knew it could pour but it never rains in california. "now, i am leaving to walk in the rain," he said, opening up his umbrella. "i will think of how i hate you the entire time i spend in the miserable rain." it's somewhat comforting to think that strangers worldwide know they are welcome to be my sarcastic friends.

"we can't seem to get a grip on your life," my parents continue to say, usually when i finally have some exciting news to share with them. like they care about anything i do, they don't. if the news involves a transoceanic airline flight, it seems essential to mention it to them, even though it feels like asking rather than announcing.

there have been numerous occasions that flights have been neglected to be mentioned to my parents, and on the day of return from those trips, my telephone found motherfigure worried on the other end of the connection. each conversation, she insisted that something was going on with me- that she could feel it, knew something was up, but didn't know if it was good or bad. this was very strange as we stay in touch with a strange one-sided e-mail communication ritual, and never over the telephone. christmas eve? now and then- not always. i remember to inform about more involved or independent traveling, but continue to worry about their feelings of what i do.

they have no clue. i explain myself and they still don't snap it up.
after passing the photographs around, they still don't see.

honest to god, my father weighs the possibility that i am supplying california with drugs in order to finance my travels while also holds the idea:
- i will always be a timid wallflower.
- my introversion will cause me to be walked over.
- i will never amount.
- if i do anything, it is somehow wrong.
- bad outweighs good.
- to dwell on all potentially bad possibilities.
- to never, ever, talk about bad actualities.
and:
since the majority of my income is the result of establishing my own business, and not from another employer, to them this means i am jobless. funny how it never illustrates a slowly stacking success which enables the time and money to afford my lifestyle.

i only write this because two upcoming (and disastrous) conversations with them are going to be impossible to avoid:

1) colleen, the woman who was going to be deployed to iraq, has been trying to get discharged from the army under the pretense that she is a lesbian. even though i do not know her, my parents have already, and are sure to mention this preferential fact once again. both parentfigures can barely say the word "gay" so when they do, they must pause to collect reactions (as to test the conversation before it takes place). colleen was discharged from the army this week. they cannot understand my apathy towards the subjects of sex or drugs but i am supposed to be blinded and incapacitated by this type of information.

2) having just been invited to attend a martin gore concert in london, which takes place the same week as i was to depart to malaysia, the tropical vacation will be rescheduled. i can hear motherfigure's "i told you so's" in reference to asian infection control- as if this reticketing is related to her provincial opinion. it is important to clearly state i neither give one flying fuck about sars, even covert drug activities would be a liability, and frequent flyer mileage accrual is a business that should not be a misunderstood concept or a great phenomenon.

my fingers are still numb on my left hand (since playing bass on saturday night) and it's now tuesday afternoon. it doesn't usually last this long. hmm...

please someone, call england and tell them to come get robbie williams.

tomorrow involves traveling to coastal beach communities in san diego county and the northern part of the baja peninsula in mexico. unfortunately, this tide pooling excursion also includes an uncomfortable and inescapable lunch hour, but today i start a nine day water only fast. oh, another study in controversy- even if announcing the fasting in advance. another struggle- only due to being familiar with, but now refusing to make other people happy.

acceptance nods to the state of all or nothing. the "really great excess" combined with "occasionally my life is substantially worse than sob stories i read about" is definitely more entertaining. in vacillating between these two extremes, my life covers it all and i have everything. this middle-of-the-road crap i am experiencing right now is nothing but a constant ho-hum.

apathy? depression? both?
or worse, perhaps, everything is fine.

i hate ho-hum. bland is, but needs not be tolerated. if not for the urging under-the-skin side effect of yellow food coloring, i would be too exhausted by depression to even yawn.

after attempting to play bass for longer than 20 minutes, i have no feeling on the tips of the fingers on my left hand. in other people's experience, this can relate to a pinched nerve in the shoulder, but i was sitting down and not exchanging the weight of the instrument to a shoulder strap. [mm-hmm, mostly apathy experienced with a slight bit of "i do not care, but sort of care about not caring."]

consider: goddamning everything to death.
consider: or not.
consider: or neither, rendering both, for lack of reason.
consider: do nothing, it's still something.
consider: live without a reason: try watching television!

flagrant says, "god, no thanks. i need to 'be something better' and 'be it now.'"
note: right this very minute.

depression?
apathy?
as bad as always?
consider: except i care that i don't care.

depression is as low as ever and also i am terribly tired of sharing my certifiable birth name with a will-blow-anything porn star. occasionally it's a case of funny-ha-ha, but what an exasperating experience to see "YOUR REAL NAME sucks cock -VHS/DVD $1.95."

this week DAILY LIFE will travel to mexico and england.

mexico:
film and photography

england:
blame it on the white stripes.
blame lumpy jackie white.

...strange idea that someday i will take a return trip to holland, only in an effort to find mark, the schizophrenic u2 fan i once met while waiting for a bus. i don't doubt i'll find him wandering around rotterdam... that said, what will i do with him? what to say? what should happen after the hello?

i remain sporadically scared to leave the house. who understands how the fear perpetuates when nothing ever does happen. the shedding of agoraphobia was forced as i walked under the sun on a busy street. a billion strangers were involved with their own lives, and drivers were preoccupied with erratic traffic, but still, while walking on the sidewalk, i felt very "spotlight on."

it was so bright (!) and loud (!) and annoying (!) that i gazed at my shoes to shut out the population and maintain a track of physical balance. no one even noticed me. this i know, but if only i could pretend that nothing really meant too much.

i turned the music up. saturday. weekend airplay is recited block of noise- announcers feel the need to constantly repeat insignificant facts, but anyone who cares already knows! what's that? james osterberg originally recorded china girl? say it ain't so! another trivia yawn or two, which would have easily fit into idiotic weekday morning drive banter better, was thrown around before music happened. ultimately, the osterberg existence leads the dj down the dave boo-ie road. listen with predjudice, some say, and i tend to agree, except when the offspring owns the other station.

some patients get prescriptions for relevant medications while others get hospitalized-- a lot get offered therapy. then there is flagrantme. eye can't get medicaljack because eye have a problem, which isn't necessarily problematic, but a problem promotes additional disorders, thus eye win an unnecessary medicaljackpot.

myflagrant options for a problem are either an inpatient 'residential hospitalization' eating disorders program, or nothing. patients invested in getting treatment pray for their insurance to cover an inpatient stay-- depending on the level of service, it can total $3500 a day or higher. after my deductible is met, myflagrant insurance with kaiser permanente will cover an inpatient hospitalization up to 45 days per year.

the problem is how a problem is not the problem. it remains a constant threat, and eye am 'sicker than the average non-eating disordered person' but a problem is not critical.

it was suggested to doctor ben, a psychiatrist who would give flagrantme any drugcandy should eye point to the jar, that inpatient hospitalization would make a problem deadly. doctor ben agreed.

why can't eye simply get a referral to see a therapist or a psychologist every week? the therapeutic benefit gained by going through all of the motions of getting up, plus showering, dressing appropriately, driving in traffic, making small talk with the parking lot gate attendant, and walking through the medical campus amid many people, would be huge. essentially, we both know what eye need to fix myflagrant problem, why should standards of insurance coverage have authority? a problem has the highest mortality rate of any psychiatric illness-- thus kaiser considers their liability and offers a full hospitalization. eye need lower intensity care, for an extended term-- thus the "eyes" and "myflagrants" used in these recent posts should compute. i am offered too much. i don't want take-- and this is to the point that i don't even want to be seen being "i."


how is a problem not b problem? have eye not been writing about b problem more than the foundation of a problem? current illness is a mix of the two but the malnutrition aspect wins. it would be classified differently if eye were friends with BACKWARDS HABIT and at a normal body weight, but eye will never subscribe to a common size. the joke is eye live in that third world country called malibu, right next to the people's republic of santa monica, and because of the dreadful conditions found here, eye have vitamin and mineral deficiencies. instead of drugcandy and vital amines or some type of regrettable dead meat, myflagrant prescription from doctor ben is related to vitamin d. eye should sit outside for 15 minutes a day this week, oh, the horror, and more if eye can handle the brightlights. "take a xanax or two if you need it," he said.

eye don't know, can eye handle that?

so now, for once instead of blowing off doctor ben, eye will attend to his suggestion. of course eye cannot just go outside and sit down-- anorexia nervosa insists never sit when you can stand, never stand when you can walk, never walk when you can run. eye will refuse sitting, opting to walk outside during the brightlights. if not too wobbly, then a run. eye write this because anxiety disorder is palpitating and blinky, and there are terrible obsessive compulsive thoughts that something horrendous will happen to flagrantme if not typing out that something painful and embarrassing will occur.

consider how something uninterpretable must arrive to block this planned episode of health. it's merely the tricks of mental illness, but it usually appears to be an obnoxious attitude: but, but, but eye can't go outdoors without an ugly or enormous person to accompany flagrantme. they serve a purpose to deflect the sneers of other scarymeanstrangers.

[sigh]

since it will be fine - it's always fine, eye will take myflagrant camera to capture the lunacy of what eye image could be waiting to embarrass flagrantme. nothing, eye know, but if eye didn't romance this ritual, then "i" would have to face the fact that "i" _____ ________ ____________.

depression has returned.
bad enough to be listening to books on cd.
for chatter.
to hear a voice in the room.
blow, blow me out i am so sad i don't know why.

lank hair.
dirty lenses.
perpetually thirteen.
fumble.
double trouble.

the j. crew clothing store is a strange land where a skinny size zero is routinely too big, but size four can be cut slimmer; where this season's fresco-colored blue bikini tops are (but are not intended to be) manufactured out of fabric in a slightly lighter hue than coordinating swimwear bottoms. never charmed by the 'realness' of their chosen catalogue models, i despise their currently confused demographic, but routinely stock up on closet-space waste. i would love to fall in love again. perhaps, i just shop their due to familiarity.

- five classic slim shirts
- merino wool and cashmere cardigans
- two bikinis
- one pair of italian leather flats

why set myself up for the aggravation? it's on the decline, but this is amounting to an extensive education in vanity sizing.

now i merely need to locate waterproof but perfect looking 'jungle luggage' for the upcoming trip to singapore; two pairs of eyeglasses with photochromatic variable tint 'transitional' lenses; a dentist with good teeth; paraben-free/phenoxyethanol-free hair products; a new whipping boy who knows to wear his hair like he does care; self-sealing envelopes; a pet-sitter or west san fernando valley cat kennel recommendation; gluten-free corn-free casein-free allergy-free non-estrogenic sunscreen; a merchant visa account; and someone who can read my mind clearly enough to supply these things without my having to ask or twitch my nose.

how to trust a pet sitter? how much does a pet sitter cost? what is the trend in pet sitting? are 'live in' pet sitters an obnoxious option? do most pet sitters have a pet manifest and care for several animals during the course of a week? does a pet sitter accept tips or possibly even expect a gratuity?

okay, let's obsess about this:

a stranger will become a key holder which allows entrance to my house. this individual will feed, water, clean the litter box, and care for my cat daily... but will this person make preconceived judgements based on my belongings? what if the pet sitter has a secret vendetta? perhaps a pet sitter would passionately act out feelings of resentment towards my cat? what if a pet sitter is actually the epitome of my ludicrous fears and is a thief-- choosing to sneakily search through and steal my stuff, try on designer clothing, and/or lingers around my house? see, i wouldn't know but i'd know.

the cat's opinion is to entertain the idea of a pet sitter and therefore bypass the hell of being transported across los angeles to sit in a cage for a week. he would obviously enjoy a visitor rather than endure the stress of being boarded.

"we offer 90 cubic foot cat condos, each with cable television and a velvet sofa." the weekly rent to house a pet at a kennel should not cost more than a monthly mortgage payment for people to live in a standard home. i can't be the only one who is uncomfortable with the cost effective option of having an unfamiliar pet sitter. my home houses nothing valuable compared to most people, but the lack of control is a concern, as well as the aspect of security.

colleen, a person i have only met through other people's photographs, is being deployed to iraq next week. i am positive she doesn't know who i am, aside for being 'someone's sister' but will still consider sending her a package in the future.

first of all, isn't that completely off that a parcel can be shipped to a specific person fighting in a war? next, what type of supplies do the troops need? would a jar of peanut butter and container of handi-wipes be considered unobtainable luxury items-- or do they get sent too many of them? skin exfoliate or broad spectrum sunscreen? disposable cameras? a white stripes tour shirt from their show i will attend next week? i assume that which is desired most is inappropriate to send.

up until now i have been muttering under my breath about the dreadful human interest stories regarding the war. they go beyond a constant media annoyance and sound like propaganda. i don't tune in a news broadcast to hear about how the 'susie homemakers' have attacked local craft stores and they have subsequently run out of symbolic yellow ribbon, or how black bean burrito mre options with cheese and sour cream will be phased out and eventually discontinued. i really don't care, or didn't, but wonder now if i will have a different attitude.

hasty comments were made a few months back, suggesting that during the month of march i would again sweep all of the crap out of my life- this included two people i should consider and treat as best friends. yesterday i wrote off people who promote problems, have broken my door down, and have bought unwanted and unnecessary gifts [such as luxurious vehicles which do nothing but screw up my parking arrangements and raise my automobile insurance thousands of dollars per year!]

over.
good-bye.

a few boxes of essentials, the cat in the car, and a short drive through the topanga hills to the ocean delivered me to an empty house sitting too close to pacific coast ocean. with too many neighbors, and too much afternoon sun, there is a gardener here, and i will have to spy to learn his schedule. the loudmouthed cat is still snaking across the unfamiliar floor in fear of the new surroundings, but it's calm and tonight i will sleep.

:
:

or not.

it rains here- i haven't seen rain in a few months. the ocean smells like dead fish, and with this much marine layer in malibu, the car should turn to a pile of rust in under six months.

for a long time, i lived on the coast north of santa barbara and got used to the ocean's fishy smell, but the echoing sound of the seals arping used to keep me awake all night. it was one of the most peaceful places in the world, but any excuse to stay up and remain on edge is found.

actively ignoring stress, the other reasons for insomnia now: the light is on, and i have to get up tomorrow, so why bother going to sleep? i can surf here or at least follow the coast on a long run in the morning, so the preoccupation is in finding a reliable online tide table.

"i want a spaceship, dammit."

consider:
- stop wanting, instead, find a need and stack the success
- aeronautical and astronautical engineering studies at caltech?
- doctor of philosophy, aeronautics - galcit?

i have to stop saying everything is bad and start referring to it as everything is bland... not interested in changing bland because i have a technicolor undercarriage which is good enough for now.