Scenes of Hollow

My first day riding the bus in the rain. Yesterday I packed my umbrella in my backpack because I saw that the streets were wet when I emerged from the subway in Downtown LA. As I briskly paced myself to the bus stop this morning there was the damp smell in the air, but nothing falling from the sky. I realized as I was about a block away from Sunset and could see the cars going by on it that I only had a $10 bill and would have to stop at the local "PK Donut & Ice Cream" shop to buy a bit of breakfast in order to get anywhere this morning. The store is in a small, corner strip mall where the bus stop is. Just as I stepped out of the store, the drops began to lightly spot my arms and I could hear the bus engine revving around the corner. It was cold out, but the drops seemed to cool the rushed feeling of getting "exact" change ready; which was done precisely as the bus stopped and the door opened.

(Having watched Narnia last night the temperature change stepping through the door was quick to metaphor)

Ten years ago I had recently returned home from Orlando, FL from a 10 day vacation with Nathan, Greg, and David-Robert. I was anti-drug, but had recently (within a year) been "drunk" for the first time. I worked for a company that paid me well for pushing paper around efficiently but that I loathed going to work for. I was beginning to fall in love again, but this time I felt that it was on some more "adult" level having experienced the coming out affections of my puppy playfulness. Prior to the vacation, I took part in a clinical trial for depression medication because I had always been told I should be on meds, but really I was doing it for the money. I would throw one pill away each time I was supposed to take one and report back each week that I felt no change. (I really did feel no change)

The loves have changed. The jobs have changed. The depression has not changed, but I have started to actually take the medication. In a decade of reflection, there are many ripples to distort the view but also knowledge and experience to counter this effect.

I wish it would rain down hard tonight.

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The Luckiest of Loves

In the darkest moments we tell people to look for the the glimmers of light to hold themselves together; stay grounded. As we emerge from the 7th St Station and I feel sunlight on my skin it is of some comfort. The train stops and then moves again and I'm being pulled further and further away from this mess of a "city."

I'm being pulled toward a smaller, slightly less messy city. These melting pots full of cultures, crime and creatures all shapes and sizes. Some are very kind. Some are seething with self-stardom and lacking any self-sacrifice. Before boarding this Blue Line, I was standing on the Red Line next to a beautiful baby girl being held in her mother's arms. She stared at me and - forced a smile back at her. She knew it was insincere and refused to smile back. They always know. I glanced again and her hand was outstretched toward me which put a real smile on my face but I couldn't look too long. I didn't want her to start crying as she surely would have seeing straight into me as children can. It was enough to accept the band aid of her healing little fingers.

I try very hard not to let things beyond my control get to me. Let's face it, it's futile in the end. Sometimes going through the motions can be a valuable lesson of the futility. Sometimes letting one's self be consumed by the futility is a way of spinning your wheels so that you can focus on something as whatever it is out of your control just runs its course. When I find myself in situations that I must be in---which are rare because most of the time I choose to remove myself---i find that it is because of my caring for someone or people or a cause. The funny thing is that over time, one lesson learned is to avoid being in these situations. Another lesson is learning the importance of accepting that these situations are necessary, if only to play a part in a greater orchestration.

I've stayed relatively quiet on the Prop 8 debate. I feel like I'm saving my energy for the fight that will ensue after election day. I do not plan on being silent then.

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Sleepless in Silverlake

My alarm is set for 4:45am but I'm already awake now for an hour, lying in bed and unable to "drift" back to that sleepy place. Damn meds. Grrr.

I forgot yesterday that I set-up my journal to be copied to my email list. My phone alerted me to a new email as soon as I posted and when I looked to see what it was, I immediately had the thought, "That's a lot of information that I don't know if I really wanted to broadcast." Don't get me wrong, I'm not in the habit of concealing my feelings from friends, but my email list has a range of people on it. I consider them all "friends." Those of you who know me well know I don't throw that term around like any gay ghetto socialite might. Knowing me is the key to the thought that popped in my head. The email list of twenty-some odd people ranges from people who have known me for over a decade (and I feel very close to) all the way to people who I may have recently met and am still forming foundations.

Random: The distance from Ky's place in Silverlake to my work in West Hollywood is 7.4 miles according to Google Maps when routing by the Bus 4/704 route. It says it is a 21 minute drive. There is one bus driver in particular who I usually get in the evenings when I have to work graveyard and he holds VERY close to the 21 minute estimate. I love him. :-) The reality is that a bus during the daytime will range anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour for that same 7.4 miles depending on traffic, stops, and the will of the bus driver. Also, according to Google, the same 7.4 miles would take me 2hrs 26min to walk. So....if I left right now at 4:37am, I'd be to work on time at 7am.

I'm not in the mood to try it, however, I am in the mood to eat.

Filed Enclosures

Brain flush time:

Sitting crossed legged on the bed, eyes closed. music playing. window open. I hear Buster's movement in the other room; his collar gives him away. The blinds are open slightly and even with my eyes closed I know this because of the amount of light that I feel on my face. I open my eyes.

Dogs bark throughout the neighborhood. It's 10:30am and the BTU's of the a/c unit in the other room can be heard, but not felt. Dry hands. Good Tiesto song on random play. I'm hungry, but not enough to get up and move. The shower seems like a nice story, but it too requires an effort that I am just not wanting to put forth. A child cries out to someone near it with words that I can not make out. I think, "Is it because they are too young to enunciate or are they too far away for me to really know?"

My depression has begun creeping in more and more. Several weeks now. I had five generic Wellbutrin XL's leftover from about a year ago when we discovered the generic didn't work as well with me as the brand name. I'll be on my last one today which leaves the potential of the tricyclic at bedtime to perhaps carry me through this. Being without insurance is odd. I think it's odd because in the whole of my adult life I don't think I've been without for even one whole year. (But I am shortly going to achieve that) I noticed that my last entry was September 27th and here it is half way through October. When I don't write it is sometimes an indication that the depression is fogging up the streets I'm trying to navigate. Not always, but often. The disconnection from friends is definitely feeding the depression. I think until I have made a definite decision about moving or not moving and keeping my job or not keeping it I will continue to be in this predicament. The back and forth from LA to LB is not a trip that I want to make frequently so I end up staying in LA more because Ky and work are there. Work--the thing that is supposed to allow me the green to go and enjoy the time off with friends... haha

I finally did call Randy. We're playing phone tag. His number is one of the few that I actually have committed to memory.

There's much more in my head, but this entry is like moving a valve to let some steam off and allow me some clearing of thoughts.

I need to go running regularly again. Oh... the knees... haha

Wiffs

A man sat down and a smell came with him. That is all I have to say.

This is the balance I get for getting to leave work early.

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Soda Jerks

It's that time of morning when the sun tries to override the night's hold on light. Some mornings the night relinquishes control promptly with the sounds of birds and morning cars to bring in the day. Today, the night fights back and a gray, overcast sky obscures much of the sun still. I stand at the front desk with the artificial lights still above me looking much like heat lamps from a fast food establishment. I'm warm.

Two more hours and the shift ends. I walk to catch a bus. I spend time with my boyfriend before closing my eyes and attempting the daytime sleep so that I can do this night routine all over again. It's like the sun just heard me type that last line because I can start to see ripples in the pool where there are still people dipping in and out of as has been the practice all night long. Working this graveyard shift only two nights a week pulls me in and out of this world; in, just long enough to understand and get used to it, then out, to remind me what that this nighttime playground is a subculture within a subculture....

After tonight, it's back to Long Beach for a couple days and hopefully time where I mix the worlds I keep keep active memberships in.

I've been thinking of Nathan and Randy a lot lately. Perhaps my days off will allow for those thoughts to come to some type of action. There seems to always been something that is important in the moment that moves my thoughts. Tasks and day planners have been my solution in the past. Pen & paper....my tried and true processes.

As we're fond of saying around The Inn...."You can have a coke." (Mad TV reference)

Month Nine, Day Five

It's September and the buses are full of the extra bodies of those going to school. I am lucky to have a seat. Spanish being spoken to my left, Tagolag to my right. We're at La Brea & Santa Monica Blvd. and I'm wide awake for this hour.

This has been a very long week. Sleep was a valuable comodity that I could not seem to come by, but in its place there was knowledge gained, and the tradeoff was worth it for me. And though it is Friday and the ending of the week for most everyone standing on the bus, it is my first day back to The Inn and back up in LA.

I managed to make it home for two nights this week.

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Dew Drops To Candyland

AIDA - Amneris' Letter

"I'm sorry for everything I've said
And for anything I forgot to say too
When things get so complicated
I stumble...
At best...
Muddle through

I wish that I our lives could be simple
I don't want the world
Only you
Oh I wish I could tell you this face to face
But there's never the time
Never the place
This letter
Will have to do
I.... love.... you...."


I've been listening to words of songs more closely lately than I would normally. I know an extensive search of this journal would show several entries with song lyrics that have caught my ear or some heart string over the years. I'm not oblivious to all ties to words--hahahaha... what is this? Writing? I think I just enjoy the idea of songs and music conveying something without relying on the words themselves. I used to have many, many movie scores collected back when hoarding material things like that meant more to me. I still feel ties to movies that have a good score that paces with the movie.

I'm standing at the front desk and I can feel my muscles starting to fatigue. I push up to my tip toes to stretch the arches of my feet and my calves. I lean side to side and feel the pieces of a body that has little regular activity. My neck cracks and I think about all of the bodies I see here at work that obviously go to some type of gym on a regular basis. We all make time for the things that are important in our lives. If something is important enough, the time will be found, etched out and squeezed in to make it happen.

The journey home: one bus, a subway train and a light rail train. I hope to be home by 9:30am. I haven't decided on whether to sleep when I get home or stay awake. I have to flip the graveyard schedule I've been on the last two days. It would be nice to go and lay out at the beach today. Something tells me that upon arriving back to my humble abode, I'll look around at the clutter and want to start picking it up but end up laying my head down for a moment and then it will be early evening. Hahaha....I'm looking forward to the smell of laundry detergent and fabric softener.

7am..... busy bees begin buzzing...

Under the gray ceiling of the Silverlake outdoors, it's 6:26am when I step into the red bus, grab the yellow handle and deposit my $1.25. We take a seven minute detour because of the event known as Sunset Junction but then it's a straight shot down Santa Monica Blvd. Everything is overcast and nothing but the potholes are doing anything to inspire the sleep to leave my face.

I tendered my resignation from the promotion I was given at work. I have long subscribed to the triteness of ignorance being bliss. I also know how impossible it is to unknow something.

Lady Gaga - Just Dance
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A Shattered Face To Hold The Door

I know that title might flash a scene where someone's face gets slammed into by a door...but even that picture was an afterthought for me. Simply...I use a shattered face to hold my bedroom door open. (It's a piece of a sculpture that was given to me as a gift and I use it as a door stop)

I slept at home last night and woke up to read a magazine. I don't read often so when I make a conscious effort to browse an article that has an eye-catching title it's almost as big a deal as the The Queen Mother passing gas in public.

It's nice to sit on my bed and be surrounded by the sound emanating from my speakers. Not having showered yet, sitting here like this is like bathing in sound waves and my body naturally starts to rhythmically move as each vibration can literally be felt on my skin. The tingles start. Little hairs start standing up as goosebumps form. My entire body becomes a gigantic nerve that excepts the musical stimuli and tears actually start to form in my eyes. I smile.

I need to make a more concerted effort to get back here regularly. It's Summer and I've been to the beach three times this year. What's wrong with me? Music, dancing, the beach & my friends.... I've let them all fall by the wayside with all of the time and effort I've been putting into work and my relationship. This is a familiar pattern. (As I type that I stare at the lights on the Winamp electronic oscillating frequency display. Beat. Beat. Beat...patterns) I should not make it sound as if my efforts are in vain. The allocation of time has all worked in my favor and now it's just a matter of balancing everything back out.

The article I read was in the the September issue of DETAILS magazine. Shia LaBeouf (who I love not for his acting but because his name has every vowel of the alphabet in it) is on the cover and apparently can't get laid. He was not my reason for reading. An article with the title, "Would You Marry A Porn Star? Meet Guys Who Did" caught my eye. One of the quotes that was blown up and printed in bold was, "Life with a XXX actress has its perks--hearing about her day isn't one of them." Even though it had a straight-focus, I figured the issues I deal with would be universal and after reading the article...They are. Usually people find comfort in relating that they are not alone and that there are other people out there dealing with the same things. I've never been comforted knowing that I'm like other people.

I find comfort right here--right now; in the brief dinner with Charlie last night and conversations of our colleagues; in the cuddles of J Squared; in the faces of babies giggling as they experience the world around them; in eating mountains of sugary ice cream; diving under a wave as its about to crash down on me and coming out the other side. I find a lot of comfort in sleeping.

I was going to go into work about noon today, but I really need the time away right now. I just spent the last hour reading different people's blogs--something else I never really do. I stopped when I came around to one that had a link back to my own journal and when I clicked on it I realized that my last entry was on the day before my promotion at work. In just under two months I've become the Assistant Manager of the place. I'm sensing all the things about work that I don't want to be dealing with as I start to form thoughts about what to write about it so I won't. I have one more month left of my evaluation period for the place before I make a stay or leave decision. I'm sticking to my initial 90 day commitment.

Time to cut the hair...