[ flagrant disregard ]

i don't really want any of it.
- the yes.
- the no.
- the perhaps.
- the good.
- the bad.
- the forehead thunking boredom found in the spread.
what was i ever thinking?

leo carrillo state beach and park-
malibu, california

today i tried to get eaten by a shark at broad beach but all effort proved impossible. hell, i didn't even see one.

depression painted over paintings in reds. god, how i hate red. then i ripped up recent watercolors after deleting almost a year's worth of writing- it should have been shipped off to an editor next week
month
year
decade
whenever.

what in the hell have i been doing to cause a pulled muscle in my hand, acquire rubbery legs, and realize a toothache?

he was good looking and that is all that anyone ever mentioned. personality? no, not much. one day in the bathroom mirror he tore one side of his face apart with a sharp chunk of glass and then immediately met his friends for dinner with blood falling to his shirt. how romantic. i have seen him since the wound healed to a lumpy scar and my mouth always twitches trying to paralyze the potential smirk when i see how the large mark eerily emphasizes his perfect bone structure and glowing skin.

windsurfer and kiteboarder- malibu, california

there will be at least nine noisy four-wheel all terrain vehicles patrolling a stretch of broad beach in front of this superhouse today, but screaming kids are apt to be running around the swimming pool up at my condo- so i can neither win nor find peace. the majority of my junk resides down here in malibu, causing me to remain somewhat stuck. stay? go? i think it's a case of "i want to stay here, but have the contents of each home temporarily exchanged." too lazy to make ten trips out to pack up the car or simply too depressed to make a decision?

neighbors, gardeners, scarypeople, additional strangers, tourists walking dogs-- can i go outside without exciting too much gawking attention? what about the essential vitamid d and its prescribed topless sunbathing out on the deck? as i type, beachcombing bypassers have stopped their stroll to wince and point. "i wonder who lives there," they ask each other as virtually no nameless people live down this road. they may actually be thieves appearing to be homely egotistical tourists walking on the private beach. i am quite concerned to be here alone due to potential robbery.

if tourists and beach-goers followed the rules and stayed on the wet sand, their presence wouldn't be a problem. celebrity stalkers hear on the news that this is *not* a private beach and then arrogantly camp out all day, swiping up unlocked items and leaving their garbage behind when they leave. [some of the celebrity homeowners own the property all the way down to the wet sand, some do not- it is not clearly mapped.]

if the wobbly and unwelcomed stargazers were smart, they would realize that superstar residents use the beach as the sun is coming up, if at all, and not at noon when it is crowded with annoyance.

i had another blog for a few weeks, as though i wouldn't have to be depressed there. on unrelated pages i posted silly photo scans of kids from olympia, indie bands, portland playground equipment, weekend pictures of seattle, strange paintings made with bodily fluids, photos of my photo albums, froot loops, night-time drives, and palms of blood.

if i could post to the past i think i would because if anywhere i should be able to fit in here in my own space.

it had been three days without ingesting any water-- so much for a water only fast. i feel very dirty from the inside. this extra restriction wasn't intentional-- i just haven't been able to go out and retrieve liquids. last night, after getting into bed, which was completely out of my character, i held my chest. it was thumping irregularly. my heart was killing me or i was killing my heart? squeeze. squeeze. squeeze. it beats in chaotic rhythm but when i mention a childhood illness, people listen with third ears.

i can't sleep because my heart wakes me up.
my cat wakes me up.
rattle, rattle, a friend wakes me up.

hey. hey you. [he said.]
what?
do you want to take me downtown? [he said.]
what?
do you want to take me downtown for that meeting or do i have to take the bus and the train? [he said.]

i am only wearing a shirt, it is still totally dark, and he is asking an incorrect question.

what do you mean, do i want to take you? if you want me to take you, you'll ask me. you will deflect blame, and try to make this my brilliant idea that i want to get up and drive into the city during los angeles drive-time.
never mind. [he said.]

it works every time.

current art project: untitled fluids on cold press

it is very liberating to throw 80+ old compact discs down the garbage shoot. for some reason i've needed to keep stacks of 100s of magazines for years just because bunbury's painted face appeared on the pages. screw that, i know what he looks like. what is with the boxes of miscellaneous stereo, telephone wire, and connectors? i don't need nine remote controls. bye. i'm not taking care of this plant. gone. this rug needs to be washed? not by me.

how much longer until i can kill off my 'imaginary' friends? they never have fit the definition of a friend so i wonder what exactly they are to be called? imaginary. i must be living deeply drilled in the nervousness fog to convince myself to breathe one more day with any of them in my life. one assumes complexity, the other assumes my position, and the the last is a casual seasoning- he is of forgettable use and familiar taste, like salt. there is an embarrassing triteness in their spanned spectrum and unfortunately i have been too idle and any catastrophe could click in too nicely with my sarcastic saturdays. the days i am occupied i tend to forget to pull the plug and believability requires inconvenience.

as his soul travels to another place, i have to quickly convince myself i control it. when he finally goes away, i will already be gone. no invisible emotions are going to swallow me.

yes: unraveling crepuscular persistence.
yes: knitting vespertine synthetic repetition.

no, that's hard and i'm lazy and i don't want to and leave me alone.
since when is yes easier than no?
am i embarrassed?
no, but my hand is numb.

i will be much stricter in my composition.
start: now.

the nutcase perpetually thrives at 3:30AM. blame the insomnia on anxiety (since i don't take to bed), rather than depression (waking up and not finding an ability to fall back asleep), but the truth is that the drive of hunger is a churning force. if i give in, the worry is how i could miss out on something and then feel a surge of disappointment. if i wait, the sound and information surrounding choice and possibility becomes too overwhelming to put to bed.

--

bacterial endocarditis
what a romantic diagnosis for bunbury to endure. rather than a summer chick flick of the same title, specialists can powerpoint to his fashionably chic infectious heart.

something happened last night when i hacked off my hair with the serrated knife.
something spin dizzy. i am now totally giddy.

move on
move on
looking forward to the normal-ish non-exciting type

flagrant says: "but, i don't know any."

one who never got paid to wear l'oreal eyeliner and someone who would be embarrassed to have an assistant place cotton padding in his calvin klein underwear in front of twenty-some people. one unfamiliar with power lunch breaks. one with a hobby and enough confidence to know i do not have to share. one who had always needed to budget and be attentive as to how he spends his money. one who wouldn't mind that occasionally i like comic book character pillowcases and the sentiment of a bent fork. one who would have uncomfortable anxieties over wearing a $1495 pair of shoes to run daily errands. one who could acquire the guts to tell me anything. one who would know that just because 'we can' does not mean 'we must.' someone who definitely would be shy in saying 'yes' when he means 'no.' someone who understands the anxiety and what it is like to turn around too soon. someone who could suit up, learn to spend and play much harder than we will ever work, appreciate the outrageousness, and then travel back to normal with me until the next time.

my hair is falling out worse than i ever expected. i am excited as this will reinforce my depression and as i learn to not care i can continue where i should not go much, much easier.

no matter how drugged up on medicine, bunbury's knee still always has the ability to run the inside length of my thigh and his nose can always find my chin but lately it has been too hot for breath. it is common for him to ask me three times in a matter of minutes exactly where we are and though he can remember asking, he never remembers my responses.

i think:
hmmm... hmmm... hmm... hmm...
i am not doing this for many more days. hmmm... hmm... hmmm...
how'd you gain forty pounds injecting drugs, silly? hmmm.. hmmm...
i'll brush my teeth if there is no threat they will fall out. hmmm... hmmm...
gotta pack my travel bag today and go elsewhere. hmm... hmm... hmmm...

"i am not sure if you are having a nervous breakdown or if you are the coolest person i know." brilliant friend pulled on my hair most of the afternoon and proceeded to be upset and spout off what seemed to be a predetermined laundry list of reasons why i cannot dramatically change my physical make-up but after his initial shock, it started to read as though i am not supposed to be a mirror for other people's insecurities. how could he not give in when it had already been done and therefore late in the afternoon he told me my jagged hair would go well with my inane guitar jumping job and strange looking friends. he loves me by the way. yeah, that way.

you know, just because i can't play that damn bass unless i am hunched over with a hop-around and nearly fall over appearance does not mean it's funny and you can just laugh at me in front of my front. i mean, don't people have any manners anymore?! people are only allowed to make fun of me behind my back. sheesh.

i am experiencing weird hypnagogic hallucinations lately when out walking or driving the car. what happens is that i start to fall asleep during errands and it is terrifying. it is impossible for me to sleep in my own home, even when alone, but during the strange slice of time if i do start to drift at the computer, my cat has to alert the city with chronic piercing meows that something is terribly wrong with his caretaker. the sleeping disturbances are scary considering that recently i have fallen asleep in the car on the ventura freeway. though i did not veer into another lane, i did end up slowing the car to a complete stop right in the middle lane and certainly pissed off a few hundred people in the process. deadly? deathly embarrassing. i did not think i could make it to the nearest exit, which was less than a mile away, even with pounding on my legs with my fists, yelling and smacking myself around because i kept falling asleep. the windows were down, air conditioned blasting, car stereo was cranked, but nothing worked. there was a painful whiplash of nodding off, etc... i tried singing at full volume to keep myself awake while exiting the freeway, but sang myself right back to sleep in the running car. after managing to park in the closest place, a mcdonald's, i was suddenly wide awake and could not even figure out how to doze for many consecutive days. i believe my entire world is ending.

if i was upset before this episode of dysphoria, what is it called now when a stuttering regret balances itself on top of the pile?

brilliant friend will arrive here within an hour or two, having transversed the atlantic, and i consider the journey and reason to be excessive. he may secretly be angry rather than worried, and visit only to check up on me.

consider: throw everything away or injure things to a state of disrepair.

i did the strangest thing
i might tonight regret
a jerked steak knife
detached
several tangles of excess.

i ruthlessly chopped and i now have a flicker of feel better.

dennis driscoll-- telepathic birdcalls

dennis driscoll is coming to california in two weeks and though i am doing nothing but stomping my feet nervously with exhilarating anticipation, i probably won't even get dressed or leave my house when he tours- missing his singing experience entirely.

the nice thing about going away is that you can never return in the same way even though you swear you took the same old route to your predictable place. though it is only an online experience and you are unsure how, you know i can see you through the nose-smudged window glass from thousands of miles away. your hair is stranger or falls slightly wrong now or... perhaps you just borrowed someone else's pen last night. you're different. sometimes i think i have to see your face...push your hair back more only to see the lines that make you old. one day i will force you uncomfortably close, yet lovingly, to see how things touched you... to read what the world has written on you... or maybe to print something there myself. then with a determined pace and under the filtered porcupine sky, i will wrap my burberry coat up over my blue lips to mask my satisfactory marvel... stepping on wet leaves, i'll ponder semantics, the lack of discomfort, and damply return on a different path to my cold depth solitude.

i am furthering excess by redeeming 50,000 northwest worldperks frequent flyer miles to fly roundtrip from los angeles to london gatwick just to spit on magician david blaine. if there indeed is a god in the Kingdom Of Somewhere Else, he will kill that expletive and his warped girlfriend in what i consider to be a laughable amount of time. i can't think of a better gift for either of us.

when that little guy anorexia starts to eat your brain it sounds loud and crunchy.
... like cheetos�.
... or the sound of one thousand bad things happening.
... the sound of your mother sitting next to you on an airplane.
... the sound of your boyfriend home from rehab when you want to chat with a man overseas.
... the sound of broken bloodied teeth eating sloppy undercooked chicken.
... the sound of your cat chewing on a plastic bag.
... the now constant, new, mechanical sound from the cochlear implant that you never did want that will not stop chirping and even when there is no sound, so they say, there is still so much fucking noise in the world because the fan is shirrrrrring and the lamp is slightly pinging from heat. the tv has static tactics and someone just clicked the remote as the blankets rustle or the sheets scratch. the cat breathes and somewhere a heart is beating... but no, there is no sound... no overwhelming! loud! never stop! always irritating! constantly ringing sound! none.

you can smile uneasily here
or scrunch up your nose
or laugh out loud.
it's all fine.

i guess nowhere is safe.
but that's so far away.
thank god i already started stopping.

screw the archives- just use your imagination.

see that falling star? it's called humanity.
it's the size of a rock.
any second now it will be out of sight.

occasionally i just have to say and do a whole lot of crap to take the place of the simple facts that are not being expressed. i had a lot invested in acting mentally ill therefore when logical equations suddenly erase the symptoms that people think they see, i do my best to remember to forget my homework at school.

here is my post:
today i made ice and then sat around the house.
have a nice weekend.
don't come back.

i am getting too worked up to relate an infuriating conversation.
jesus christ, people are complacent.
- tried writing three times and it proved to be insane.

consider: patience.
note: none- i have none.

certain people just don't understand neuroscience.
consider: they don't want to know.
consider: they have no capacity to know.
note: i lack the patience to fully explain.

rule: catch on and catch up or eliminate oneself.

there was an intention to publish an entry relating to a music video production i was involved with but blogger ate the effort.

occasionally, and even though it is the point, i am tremendously embarrassed about what i have published online. my intention here is to inspire an instance of proactivity and not pain. perhaps i should edit and include a link to the archives in case a reader stumbles upon this journal and has more than a click-thru interest. then again, how exactly do i include a link or introduction which immediately can invalidate and clarify a disjointed post?

for example: how can an entry regarding the subject of 'reintroducing the purging of my food for a week, every other month or so' immediately illustrate the benefit, or a platform for health. clearly, when a strangers eyes pause on a post as this, it only promotes an idea that the quintessential trainwreck entry can be found here. am i supposed to reveal malabsorption, digestive, and allergy issues every single time? some of the behavior i write about cannot authenticate anything except subversion unless including too much background information.

this blog requires the return of the fact-filled sidebar and my feelings are earnestly invested in the endeavor, but my energy level is not. i don't know what to include. a lot of the uneasiness found here cannot be summed up. i wonder if this is me starting to reverse the demand to be understood? that scares me. i need to care or worry about being catapulted into the soft land of lazy/fat/dirty so must be thick and dusty in the head, too. i don't want to live there.

immediate and concise definition is impossible.
this blog would needs its own encyclopedia and directory.

my web statistics (which i swore to god would never influence my feelings or writing) revealed a hit from my former real world.

i perpetuate how i cannot admit any indication of distraction to other people. i will regard myself as a total failure at everything if not known to be following the perfect path to success. after noting the familiar ip address on my webstat counter, i immediately wished these blog entries had expanded on all of the over-the-top extravagance experienced. for a second i was carrying totally normal thoughts-- no topics of sidetracking allowed! i wished to promote the jealousy-inducing topics and to have abandoned all disgusting details.

the facts remain for all to see and for noses to wrinkle. it appears he read, or at least paused here. now i want to crawl under my desk.

i intend to use this blog to keep me in line, but have recently been overwhelmed with strange topics and have not felt comfortable in writing them down.

insane + crazy = it makes sense
i endure a clinically insane person in my life.

how do i explain the heart pounding terror of exiting my home to find two photographers planted at the gate? they waved violently for my attention while filming me with their video camera. these blatant pests wanted information and to catch a photograph of a person i see. this isn't too obnoxious-- he is occasionally followed around by the media. it is happening now because it was revealed he is currently attending a drug rehabilitation program in malibu. occasionally he spends the weekends 'off campus.'

this is so cool to someone who has never experienced the personal invasion... or to a person who isn't shy... or to someone who wants attention and to be photographed... to someone who has never been on television... to someone who never got stuck in their car for hours on end with only their social phobias to listen to, waiting for a perfect moment to leave. photographers standing outside one's gate may be exciting to someone who doesn't want to hide the items they bought from the store, but needs to, or result in having them captured in a photograph and known to all tabloid readers... to someone who doesn't mind paying for parking and walking home for an attempt at additional privacy when they already own their own personal parking space.

what would it mean to be an extrovert?
what would it mean to flaunt my body, tangible goods, all i have and can do?

lately, the appearance of photographers has happened on friday nights. now the weekend is coming up and strange anxiety attacks stem from my chest before exiting the door of this housing complex.

delete delete delete.
never mind.

i neglect and only remember urgency when problems step right back up to their old normal place. pain. insomnia. earwax. there is an awful lot of earwax involved when purging is the norm. all sensation has shoved back to the position of being completely shot to hell. everything is bothering the living umph out of me and i simultaneously cannot hear a damn thing or everything is too loud. everything is wrong: if someone is here, that's wrong- go away. if no one is here, well christ, does every person hate me? why am i alone? the fan switched off makes the room too hot but a fan switched on is too cold. i didn't want to go to new zealand two weeks ago, but now i wish i would have flown to auckland. why didn't i go to spain for the weekend? not going didn't stop me from being excessive... etc...

if i had a crowbar i would have gone after the people camped out by my front gate that i have yet to mention here in a detailed or at least better than vague capacity.

two men in a white car chased me while i was out running a few weeks ago and just yesterday i discovered where they live. what will i do with this information?

...and my eye is twitching. great. these muscular tics are from electrolyte imbalance and are supposedly a precursor to a heart attack but never in my life can i believe that i am going to die from this anorexia when i am wrapped up in it. a few months ago i was thinking about the severity my eating disorder had been in the past, how i was having facial seizures, and was so deluded to not know this meant i was about to face massive heart problems. i thought about it afterwards in shock mostly, that i couldn't do anything about it at the time and didn't care but i sit here today with my wonked out left side of my face seizuring this way and back like electrical zaps and so fucking what because i can handle massive heart explosion. it's just practice. convince myself. someday something worse will happen to me and i need to learn to endure. it'll be fine.

...and then i tripped and fell down the stairs yesterday which was one half of a second of orgasmic exhilaration. i don't recognize myself due to swollen parotids. my expensive hair coloring job looks muddy. isn't life good? for some reason i think i'm not entitled to complain rather than being expected to over-agonize about the flatness and lack of brilliance. i get out of life just what i ask for lately. the plan is to return to london, sit in the empty house for a few weeks, finally eat cake and die.

i'm still mad at the world and am in a mood.
a big fucking mood.
i hate everything and though i don't necessarily wish i was dead, i do wish i could occasionally stop running away from problems and have them not immediately catch up.

it's that time of year again. you know, the season where my mother submits her vacation dates at work and then informs me that she has days off during one of the highest travel seasons of the year and asks me to find the two of us a compatible destination for less money than i would pay for airport parking. [brilliant, she has requested the week before christmas off from work.]

oh yay.

short version: she didn't like my asian travel suggestion. so i booked the trip i mentioned to her for myself. now, my travel suggestion looks great to her but she is too late and my future suggestions are only going to be expensive and extravagant, thus keeping her far far far fucking far away.
stab!
stab!
stab!
stab!

i believe i just started world war five last night by sending an e-mail to my motherfigure telling her i was no longer going to waste any time in ever answering her. then i spent the morning taking photographs of my reflection in the bathroom mirror while wearing nothing but my usual revlon colorstay nailpolish and google-eyed smiley-faced expressions.

i hate you. go away.

after living through this teeth-grinding and physically demanding depression, i need to find a way to travel to china to complete a project.

in theory, this should only be a three or four night trip, but after jumping through all of the hoops hung up by the chinese embassy and consulate to obtain the business visas, the trip itinerary seems to expand far and beyond a simple visit to asia. after fulfilling all requirements and securing necessary paperwork, minor expenses of additional side trips or activities is justified. the problem is how the superfluous add-ons can easily end up costing much more money and time than the original plan.

i need to make kashgar my type of tourist trap.
how many days by train does it take to get there from beijing?

oh, screw that! i can travel all of the way to lhasa from beijing by train, and only, sarcastically, via chongqing, xian, chendu, lanzhou, xining, and golmud.

let's scratch september off the list of availability for this trip and look toward october or november. motherfigure and i are undertaking our annual insanity tour just prior to the holiday season by traveling to costa rica, so december is inappropriate.

any ideas?
want to come along?

all travel companion applicants who have the time and stamina to visit china with me, please note the following requirements:

- we join no tour groups unless it is cost effective and prepare to defect.
- must have rudimentary social skills.
- no little boys under the age of 26.
- must speak proficient english.
- must have a valid credit card.
- must be able to travel with one carry-on bag outfitted for travel which can span the range from basic dorm-style hostel bunk rooms to five star world class hotel suite service.

contrary to popular belief, there is no weight to height requirement.

flagrant is getting way too much fanmail: update your fucking blog.

pardon me, my significant other is about to die...
but i'll get right on it for you.

abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz

perhaps a private route-
speeding down the highway of too much information?
the vague and dead trail serves no purpose.
which direction should this blog take?

how to proceed?
how to illustrate?:

- bunbury, heroin, and his other drug abuse.
- madness surrounding addictions and eating disorders.
- ordeals which could be considered cool.
- challenging anorexia only to be screwed over by guilt.

one morning, a few weeks back, everything seemed to change. after the adrenaline rush, a little portion of ego strength stepped back into place- it was the day i intended to run for an hour but returned early to wash a man's blood off of my shoes. i feel very protective of myself since that incident- something previously unfamiliar. no one should dare hurt ME because I am (or will be) more valuable than the other person in the transaction. thinking i have value is an embarrassing anti-anorexic attitude [greedy! pig! bad! arrogant! too much! want! have! take! get!] and someday, hopefully soon, it can balance out.

my brother has apparently just arrived into los angeles to attend the x games but he neither knows my address nor telephone number. good. he needs not know the square footage of the condo i rent rivals the size of our childhood bedrooms.

annoying fact: that jackass has not been wearing his back brace but tries to ride his dirt bike as often as possible. note that if he was 'riding through the pain' i would be impressed, but my brother has a long way to go before fully healing from his motocross accident.

[update: though riding, he is supposedly "not in any shape to ever compete again" but believes he will and soon. he has also been attending or appearing at motocross events. i have never had the opportunity to follow his racing career and only know about it through my father's opinions.]

twitch
twitch
twitch

it is impossible to articulate what it is that i need.
it's something though- desperately.

Brilliant Friend is annoyed that i have shied away from using this blog or blogging in general as a tool for socialization. this is an odd place for him to stand. it's no secret how i feel. i am not interested in investing any form of myself in anyone else's life. not only is it easier to remain introverted, but i can then decide to step away and 1) not have the departure noticed; 2) thus mentioned; and, 3) no uncomfortable explanations would be required. it doesn't hurt me to remain this way, but it does hurt other people and they somehow believe i feel their version of the wince. hardly. introversion is a familiar state being. i barely know people or have acquaintances-- i am not alerted to the majority of their feelings.

for various reasons, an upcoming flight to scandinavia looms in my near future. Brilliant Friend suggested i invite a companion. Since half of Brilliant Friend's year is spent in Norway, he was referring to anyone other than himself. i have more than enough frequent flyer miles to blow on another person and his home would afford a great place to stay for free, but... i don't know.

Invalid Friend chuck returned home from his sister's wedding the other day. now, i did not attend due to two reasons: 1) i don't trust anyone outside of my immediate family to watch Paws The Loudmouthed Cat; and 2) traveling to a version of nowheresville on a non-discounted fall airfare completely runs against the airline mileage run philosophy.

when Chuck's flight arrived, i watched him enter the airport concourse and immediately stride over to a payphone. i watched him dial my number. how about taking a short stride through the airport to see if i had arrived? what a chicken! i watched him basically buy his comfort by not even bothering to look for me. i used to do that but i am trying to change. at least these days i would have forced myself to wander around for five minutes before just automatically weaseling out and picking up a phone. why did he act this way? other people supposedly do not have any disabling fears. chalk it up to laziness because Chuck certainly isn't effective enough to think calling me worked as a time saver. i, of course, answered my telephone and continued walking towards him. i stood in the next pay phone booth, berating him for not sending an e-mail with his return flight information, etc, for approximately two minutes before he even noticed i stood three feet away from him. he never has any money. i looked at his new watch. back while he was planning his trip, in addition to the problems with the cat, i had spouted off a grand lie to him about not being able to afford to accompany him to the wedding. he noticed my new kate spade bag. neither of us said anything. during the drive home, the disdain for each other turned east and he ranted about his relatives, promising to never say "oh jeez" or any other mid-western exclamation ever again. life is good.

there is nothing better than traveling to foreign destinations and sitting around.
been here, done that.
there is nothing worse than traveling to foreign destinations and sitting around.
spending my time waiting for people- i won't get paid enough for this but that is a furious lie.

three people are here sitting on my suitcase- ego just keeps popping out.
"is that a problem," i keep asking, but they each said it's part of the charm.
"then get the fuck off of my suitcase." i just love my occasional job.

everything got better when i stopped waiting for other people so now i blow out of proportion any lag time i spend, swearing up and down that it's keeping me back.
i love spending my time reading about online losers. so many to choose from...
for instance, start here!
that's the only reason for me to prod on... so i can bitch about other people.
all their wallowing worthlessness and self-imposed agony makes me feel better.
i'm doing even more just because of it.

why not beat yourself up about things?
go right ahead, or let me...

eye must be having the final grand attack of lifelessness if eye can have monumental morrissey sightings on two different days and not bother to blather on myflagrant blog breathlessly or endlessly. shrugs. other unusual events have been happening, resulting in myflagrant immediate and justified paranoid state of night. eye have to protect myflagrantself from other bigmouthed people knowing too much and so eye have begun to use a nearby pay garage instead of myflagrant own parking space at myflagrant home. if it was your life, it would be clearly nutso, but it's myflagrant insanity. parking a hot hike away from myflagrant place has given flagrantme some freedom from the scarypeople hounding an invalid friend.

"and they chased me up three flights of stairs
caught me in the lift
how i sighed and said: HELP!
...cos you're impossible"

do note not to ever snap a photograph of flagrantme without asking as eye'll beat you motherFing senseless or at least eye will when replaying the scene in myflagrant memory. eye have enough ammunition to sink the boat that floats and so, stop. eye won't really kill you. eye'll just make a fool out of myflagrantself and it might be aired on inferior weeknight news between the hours of seven and nine.

eye often wonder if anyone has an idea to what eye am writing about. if stating the obvious would everyone run with fact, and in myflagrant eyes, blow the situation out of proportion? it's just flagrantme, not very interesting today, eye say, but could potentially be three thousand times more vivid if plainly told. what's new? the kitchen is on fire as usual. a pot is hissing and boiling over but while eye am psychohopping around coughing and trying to conceal the big deal, myflagrant voice is composed as eye yell to the living room, "oh, it's all fine."

[diluted blogging]

"i am unable to go outside today."

[photo removed]

web surfers hit this blog having searched google and yahoo for 'flagrant disregard blog photographs of anorexia nervosa' and 'bathtub vomit photos.'

well, time goes by. perhaps i was going through so much trauma and dissociation, i felt unaffected by a cadaverous body or bodily functions. why be embarrassed to illustrate the basic facts of the matter when there was much more disturbing depth to anorexia which could never be understood?

i had thought raw nakedness and truth was real, and therefore good.

consider how the photos should remain available. this is my history. it was unpleasant and the acrid aftertaste catalyzes a beneficial bad memory. the past needs not be looked at daily, but should not be eliminated as it screams out the story of where i stand now.

consider how this action of leaving photographs of sickness obtainable for others to see could be looked upon as 'stitching myself to the past.' i am annoyed when i see the transparent attempts by others to self-inflict or claim disability in an effort to make everything they do in life look greater than it truly is. i don't want to be 'that guy.'

consider how the photos should be removed. these need neither be available for any passing underweight fetishist nor hung in easily accessible public view. i have the photos available to see. what purpose does it fulfill to leave a tender part of my history wide open for comment?

nothing is going to get better until everyone in my life dies.
maybe someone can tell them to hurry up.

yawn.

scratch that brilliantly stupid idea about costuming my wallet with foreign money in an attempt to give myself a few seconds of leeway at the grocery store. i went out sunday morning at 6am, and was horrified to find out that all three people in line ahead of me were paying for their purchases with food stamps, not that it's a problem but it certainly looked like foreign money to me at first glance. i don't need that kind of distraction.

then a few minutes ago i got back from buying some water at the faraway ralph's store. the grocery store nearby has a tendency to get robbed when i am there after midnight on sundays as it has happened three times in the past and i didn't know if i was up for it tonight. at the faraway ralph's, i was physically run over by an overnight stocking employee and three boxes on his wheeled stocking cart. he was running about as fast as he possibly could and did not stop when he reached the end of the aisle, he just turned- right into me. mm-hmm. my hand shopping basket went flying, packages opened, the water container broke and ran all over the floor... cans from a display fell down. apparently it is not common practice for employees to run with their carts down the aisles during the quiet store hours. i have raw egg on my jacket, i wasn't carrying eggs, and i appear to have spent my evening bathing in my clothes. i keep replaying the scenario in my mind... i wonder if i yelled? i'm not usually the one to throw my arms around and scream "awwaaaaahh" when i am surprised, but i don't really know what i did aside from this little gay hop before the impact and then my full out sliding fall. oh sure, NOW my nose starts to bleed.

triple digits are intolerable, and god, i had better be blogging about the weather. i would jump off the pier tonight, but won't live enough to arrive. perhaps, someone could stab me with a pair of scissors- twisting them around to spin like a hand drill. does that make teeth yell and minds sing? the newly burned soundtrack of my life ruined itself on first use. depressed with scratches and nicks, it skips terribly yet tries to play two songs simultaneously. i am tdk crap. kill me please, but make it hurt. shredding paper to avoid the replacement self injury. it is interesting in that it is also different, but the same as all i know and understand. translation: cutting has its parallels: sneered at and misinterpreted by society and media in public as cries for help but tried, praised, and romanticized in secret. cut the wrong stuff in the right way to dissociate and exchange anguish and pain. there is right stuff but i am apprehensive about dabble, chatter, and length.

this depression is so boring and overdone! is there anything new to do or experience? anywhere close to home? perhaps i can poke fun at this problem and label it an attitude problem. what if i were to look at it from an outsider's perspective rather than simply living through the cycle? in that case, i have done nothing but mope and introvert myself for several days.

an extremely cheap airline ticket for a round trip flight to tahiti was held in my name today. i could have ordered for and then paid a primetime shuttle driver to deliver me to the airport. the second ring of hell would have consisted on settling into an economy seat for eight and a half hours.

departing LAX los angeles to arrive in PPT french polynesia... but then what? do and see what in tahiti? why would an independent budget traveler invest time in overpriced newlywed heaven? a connection onward to auckland, new zealand was to depart from PPT the next morning, but i gladly decided to stay home. right now i am feeling sick and also am somewhat arguing with myself as to whether or not a decision was actually made to remain home. i think i'm sick right now. i think wanted to go, regardless of the destination, but am stuck here.

so, i remain in los angeles. let me try to talk myself out of feeling bad for giving in to illness: did i want to fly to tahiti? no, definitely not. what's the sense of visiting tahiti without flying on to bora bora and renting out an overwater bungalow? i have visited the tahitian islands and new zealand on prior vacations. who cares if staying in? why should i care? it didn't cost anything except guilt to remain in an agoraphobic comfort zone of my home.

i also ignored an invitation from a musician to make europe our playground and fly to spain this weekend. the benicassim festival. vip something or other. a huge music assembly of concerts in a corn field and whatnot. spain is enduring an uncommon heat wave. picture sweaty young eurotrash adults spilling alcohol. i seriously considered the foreign entertainment and the wedding party would never have ever known, but i think trying to manage balance means remaining in california.

depression, anxiety, anorexia- i need to get out to find my own food.
it seemed ridiculous to take either spontaneous trip. traveling internationally today could have been fine, but i have never adjusted to living alone in my own home. with invalid friend away at a wedding, there is no safety net this week. when traveling to any foreign country i am expected to bumble around and ask the dumbest questions. it is okay to go and try to live, to learn to purchase food, to spend money and shop. it is unacceptable to fend for yourself in los angeles while wandering around incapacitated by anxiety and bewildered by the availability of choices in the grocery store. it is certainly not okay to hold up the checkout line because you are nervous and fumbling for change.

recently, i put a wad of foreign money in my wallet, in an attempt to take psychological control of not only the cashier, but the shopper standing in line behind me. the intention was, when either of them saw me pick dollars apart from japanese yen, i would get an unspoken break and be allowed at least one social faux pas. after returning to the same store location a few times, i would no longer look like a nervous shoplifter, rather i could appear indecisive and foreign in the eyes of the employees.

this is a difficult day. i am alone, nervous, sad to have given in, and now scared to know i need to go out and test myself by leaving the house-- but am really looking to stay in. go where? why? if i am ill, why am i not allowed to be ill? why do i punish myself after enduring what would be expected?

--

e-mail: how was it you got out of attending the wedding with chuck?: by insisting i needed to stay home with the cat. chuck's mother agreed and understood. his mother caused a great financial distress a few years ago, and is probably relieved that we are not in her presence in team form.

i did chat with tony pierce of the busblog last night and got to catch up with what he has been doing. good stuff. i feel a lot better for coming out of my shell but worry that people will unknowingly ask me the questions that will trigger. due to this i hide to try and protect myself, but they never do ask or hound on the inappropriate subjects.

everyone i follow online is having desperate attacks of doom or indecision and i sit here amused with my stocks and la dee da, should i go to spain? i think i am going to have to find someone to care about in order to accept a reason to live... pretty basic, but very unnerving.
could you imagine if i had to admit to liking someone?
i can't even say that: i c-c-care about you. that leaves me wide open.

i have nothing but overwhelming stress this week and continuing [x] thoughts which i am surprised are still with me. pardon me as i should blog another time- it is a very blurry, imbalanced existence.

i must have been a pretty terrible kid in one of my past lives to deserve today's bunbury, but then the croatian guy at the del taco drive-thru window flirted with me as he was handing me my future bathtub toss, so my life is looking up.

i couldn't imagine.
fast food. what's that? minimum wage?

no levi billboard plastered drug addict for me... a little bit crazy, a little bit bad, no one seems to notice the severity of 'this time' aloud but we all know. i have decidedly not subscribed to the idea of me and bunbury in years so DEATH cannot sting due to previous detachment. liar. i was never attached inside, just on the outside. liar. ignoring DAILY LIFE, a flight delivers me to england to look at cracker director's floppy blond hair and the destined rain where i will say 'it's raining' and 'fix your hair' and 'you don't have to go home' unless he does and then silence. i could bare to be even-tempered around him for the rest of my life which is turning out to be a long time. if he wants to watch tv at my place he can do that- he will not understand that would be a big sentence to give away and i'll wonder why i try so hard in my own undercover way.

i am certain that d/Deaf households have the loudest, most thunderous arguments around. bunbury and i have to sound off on the furniture for every single point even if it is senseless. the new neighbors are too uncomfortable and politically correct to say anything or they have heard the murderous comments from REX.

i am purging now in preparation for DEATH's great blow to DAILY LIFE but shouldn't have this much stress in my life when the bills are paid, and i can go where i want, whenever i choose or stay home or... no dissociation now.

sporadic computer malfunctioning today.
or not.

1) how annoyed to be two days behind in making 'massive life changes' which were planned to have been completed by the end of july. part of the problem is that these alterations were neither practical nor concrete in production. this is probably normal. whoever adheres to their own self-induced shake-ups? no one i know. normal?! not possible. in ten minutes i could realign the portions i demand to be directed and that fact is not normal. an episode of slack. hmm, today could be considered quasi-balanced.

2) this blog has been uncomfortably disjointed for the last two weeks. stacks of lazy proanorexic people showed up recently, looking for the flagrantme of formerblog in hopes to locate other helpful tips to cheat metabolism. until they close the door quietly behind them, and figure out the difference between the terms 'restriction' and 'fasting,' i have nothing to do buy wave my pointy elbows around in disgust. any suggested trick is taken as disgusting or painful-- they want easy cheats which is why they never succeed. the word "don't" should take them as far into starvation as they elect and back should they choose, but if that doesn't work, by all means buy the book.

3) everyone in my life is going to die. must get better soon or get better at getting worse.

4) how is it i never need to blog myself through the bass playing i did up in the pacific northwest? did i not have a need to blog about it? this may be incredible.

5) my grandparents are making a trip and visiting motherfigure at her home this weekend. i know when motherfigure is finally bored to tears with entertaining them, she will try to pass them off to me via telephone. basically, anyone on earth is now welcomed to call and keep my telephone line busy! i would rather avoid their impending telephone conversation by default than have to admit i am ignoring the phone.

6) i, once again, was harassed and solicited for sex while out exercising this morning. this is ridiculous due to the fact i do not live in a bad area, and i wear unattractive exercise clothing while out on the route.

consider: purchasing similar workout clothes in colors other than basic black. perhaps the black clothing isn't obviously athletic wear until the approach and i actually do appear to be dressed in regular street clothes. hopefully will make a great difference in the way my early weekend mornings unfold. it's okay-- it doesn't bother me too much or bring up any stalkerish thoughts. other than rearranging the clothing, i just have to constantly run and not walk. these solicitations never happen on weekday mornings. suddenly, i don't know how to judge the area. is it bad or is this just the city? i feel safer outside in an area which has a slightly higher crime index, than staying alone inside a very expensive house in malibu. thieves are watching my every move at the beachfront house. i know it. i feel it.

7) consider: death by insomnia.

8) consider: if bunbury overdosed in my house while i filmed him with my super 8 camera?

9) if bunbury needs an exceptional amount of attention in every vein of life, how do i tell the difference between his depression and his death rattle?

the quivering norwegian drug pansy is still alive and mostly naked, but i am uncertain as to whether he is snoring or drowning. occasionally he stirs and is singing to a plastic bag or talking to his dead family. i've only understood one thing he has said and that is: stop surprising me. i am up to my chapped lips with i don't know if i want to knows.

sunshine= it's what's for dinner.

oh melanie honestly...

the required blogspot advertising found along the top of this web site is ordinarily spot on. what does this particular blog have to do with 'how to calm down a horse?' nothing. i changed the meta tags on another non-flagrant supersecret blog (which is related to this blogger account) and the blogspot advertising found here is now directly related to key words terms found on that secondary site.

hmmm... hmm... hmmmm...

i am watching him trying get a fix off a tube of over the counter benzocaine.
if he starts drooling, i'm outta here.

i can't even write here. last saturday night i ate two oatmeal raisin cookies and since then i have had ten pieces of sugar free gum. i think it's the following friday and who the fuck cares?

one of my invalid friends is at my house and he is sick and supposedly dying. i am sitting here wondering about going to the emergency room- but i cannot talk to him. i don't know what i am supposed to do right now and handfuls of pain reliever don't seem to be the answer. he is sweating, shaking his head while rocking, moaning too loud and off key, talking to the ceiling about bags of corn, and has raspy chronic sighing.

if there is one thing i hate, it's sighing- talking to invisible floating objects about vegetables is fine. the last guy i attempted to stress to the end almost sighed himself to death and worse now, the last time i saw him, he was giving off that community college vibe to accompany his cheap shoes and flat personality.

sigh. . . . . . . . .

i have destroyed myself.

the hub cafe- fullerton, california

surprise surprise
this evening's show in fullerton was an entire flop!
but what does one expect i would say?

i never practice bass guitar.
why? i'm apt to malfunction prior to arrival.

- it was very uncomfortable.
- i sat with anxiety and panic attack in a side video game arcade.
- and to the dismay of everyone else, left early.

"please stay, you have to go out with us later."

consider: why would i want to experience even more discomfort?
consider: why would i want to watch a group of people eat?
consider: why would i want to watch you guys drink and act dangerous?
consider: how old i must sound.
consider: why i like the protection this problem offers me.

i couldn't barely look around the venue and thought "i can't be here right now." the thought either processed wrong or is impossible to translate since it came out as "i hate everybody and am going home."

...and, how fitting as the devil wore prada sneakers not leather converse.

flagrant disregard

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