Contemporary Balloon Animal Art

I call this "Forlorn Poodle, Lost But Not Forgotten."

What Would Happen if You Bred a Skunk and a Dalmatian?

My bike is locked to a pole across town, I pray it's still there, I'm sorry bike (I have yet to name you, waiting for inspiration). I'm sure I'll be back in your saddle soon, but at the moment I'm very fortunate to have use of a car, a cream-colored Acura named Roxy, with tinted-just-enough windows, I'm holding auditions for a posse, we'll scream at the top our lungs the song I'm writing for the Beastie Boys, "Check Your Email."

I parked it on a hill in Echo Park before heading into a house that I sometimes imagine is like the one I'll live in one day — with bright patches of art, animal prints, art books, and Oscars screeners. And gilded Nike high-tops. And a leather wall phone. And Elvis sheets. And two beautiful outdoor areas littered with sunlight and Birds of Paradise and cordless phones.

So I was sitting in the driver's seat and I spotted a skunk just milling about by this fence, right in the daylight. And right after that I saw a Dalmatian. Ah, my black-and-white-furred brethren. What would happen if you bred? Could you? Would you? We could have a Skulmation Nation! And get our own line of skateboards! Because that would be a good name for a line of skateboards.

P.S. Click on that photo

A Little Boy's Reflection on a Tree Stump

Little Boy Looking at Tree Stump: What happened to the tree?
Me: Maybe the tree was sick, so they had to cut it down.

LBLATS: What happened to the tree?
Me: Well...maybe the people in that house wanted more sun, so they cut the tree down and had someone take it away.

LBLATS: What happened to the tree?
Me: Ummm...maybe it got blown down in a storm.

LBLATS: What happened to the tree?
Me: Welllll. Ummmm. Hmm. Maybe the tree was about to fall down onto the people's house, so they had someone come and cut it down and take it away.

LBLATS: What happened to the tree?
Me: I don't know.

(Then)

Me: What do you think happened to the tree?
LBLATS: (Holding a little rubber airplane, zooming it through the air) My airplane flew into it and knocked it down!

Random Days

I stood in front of a girl with Down Syndrome, speaking in scant Swedish to me, as she tried to forge past and toward a road in the Hollywood Hills, notorious for cars and motorcycles that veer fast and out of nowhere on its narrow ways. I watched as kids painted red the blades of their stick swords — taped together with black electrical tape, one stick as the blade, one as the hilt. Saw a man in an electrical wheelchair crossing the street, a furry spotted rocking horse in his lap. A loft party with a Malamute named Dude, a Dachshund in a backpack.

Driving back from the Comedy Store, saw a car flipped on its side and smoking, young kids with blank faces sitting on the curb nearby. Going to a taping of a Super Bowl commercial in Long Beach, there's supposed to be a car stunt, but I don't think a crash or explosion. I need to clean my ears and can't find any Q-Tips. On the TV, the pigs want to go surfing, and when they're disappointed they say things like, "Oh Thunderbugs!"

Tales From the Finger-Toenail Crypt

So I rented "Jennifer's Body" one of the raddest horror films of all time, the name riffs off the Hole song, it's written by Diablo Cody, and also directed by a woman, Karyn Kusama — one notable quote is when Megan Fox gets stabbed and moans, "Do you have a tampon...?"

So anyways, I had taken a photo of the toenails of this little boy I babysit for, and as I was watching the film later that night, noticed that Fox's fingernail paintjob was like...the same?! I hope this little boy isn't a demon. I know he's not, he's actually the perfect angel, and fun as hell, we spent a whole day with a dialogue that went something like this:

Boy: I'm sleepwalking...now I'm sleeptickling you...
Me: I'm sleepdrooling...
Boy: I'm sleepkaratechopping...
Me: I'm sleepdancing...
Boy: I'm sleepfarting...
Me: I'm sleeprunningaway...

Driving in the Land of a Million Flakes

When you pull off the highway going 60+ mph you can't expect that there will be any lights to shine your path or signs to tell you to slow the fuck down so that you don't crash at the 90-degree turn. But I do think that those little reflector lane things are more raised out here, screaming to riders in the narrow channels that they're out of line, speeding up and down the hilly highways, I've never experienced my ears popping driving through a city on such a regular basis.

Found a rad indie video store called Cinephile in West LA, near an indie-type theater that's playing Cronenberg's newest, I rented Videodrome, Up in the Air and Jennifer's Body. Chatted with one of the desk guys about Young Adult. I made a cocktail with peach liqueur and Diet Dr Pepper the other day and it was like sipping the alcoholic molasses from a peach tree if such a thing existed in Heaven. Reading "Just Kids" by Patti Smith. Ran away to NYC when she was 20. Thirty is the new 20.

Making Time For "Real" Writing

I have been away again! Because blogging on here gets so frickin addicting, and I'll sit and do it all day and not concentrate on the writing that will more immediately bring me dollars to my pocketless pants — wait, and I'm not wearing a bra, underwear or shoes at the moment either, shit where am I gonna put the dollars?!?!?!

Moving on. Oh, I went to the Rose Bowl. University of Wisconsin-Madison, my alma mater, played. And lost. But damn, it was a good game and I had this hot dog thing afterwards, drunk in the dark in the parking lot, this Latina lady asked what I wanted on it and I told her to just do it up, and she smothered this white cream stuff on it and I'm still wondering what it was... leaving that dirty thought in your head for now, more later.

(P.S. But seriously, do you think it was mayonnaise maybe, like they do for elotes?!?! Man, that shit was good.)