heathervescent

mind bending

If ever there was a blog that was the tempting treat of the internet, the apple of my browser tab - this is it. How can I know my mind better than myself? Oh, it's got to be my best friend.

heated grips and firefly in the jungle

It's been freezing down here in the LA area. The north wind has set in to clear things up and cause a ruddiness to my cheeks. It's getting dark earlier as well, which bring the temperature down. Who would have thought I would be screaming for heated grips on my commute - but yesterday I was.

It didn't matter that the views were fantastic. It didn't matter that I was mixing up my routine by taking what I hoped was the 280 of the Valley (it wasn't). It didn't matter that I was finally going to be able to see the inside of a house I fell in love with. Nope. "It was my freaking freezing fingers.", "These aren't three season gloves!" and explicatives. I took the cold out by riding faster and lane splitting more.

That typed, it was a gorgeous drive up to Moorpark through Simi Valley, along the San Gabriels as the sky streaked blue and pink, then shot onto the 5, industrial wasteland. At one moment, I felt completely and utterly insignificant. The sky was black and the hills alternately a-twinkle of lights and darkness. I saw streams of red and white. I saw myself reflected in the yellow glow from my side lights. The yellow of my helmet. I was about to get onto the 110 from the 5 S. I saw myself as a tiny light, a mere motorcycle in the maws of the LA freeway system. I was not scared. I was so insignificant. Insignificant to those SUVs, those big rig trucks I so love to lane split, insignificant even to the sedans. I was a mere single light, a firefly in the jungle.

more dream quote

From W. H. Murray in The Scottish Himalaya
Expedition, 1951. There the text apparently goes:

'But when I said that nothing had been done I erred in
one important matter. We had definitely committed
ourselves and were halfway out of our ruts. We had put
down our passage money--booked a sailing to Bombay.
This may sound too simple, but is great in
consequence. Until one is committed, there is
hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always
ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative
(and creation), there is one elementary truth the
ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid
plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself,
the providence moves too. A whole stream of events
issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all
manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings and material
assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have
come his way. I learned a deep respect for one of
Goethe's couplets:

          Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.
          Boldness has genius, power and magic in it!'

LA weekend - when dreams come true

Sometimes I feel like I'm living in a movie. Things just happen so perfectly that it's got to be scripted. This weekend I don't know what movie I was in, but it was living a dream.

One of my best friends came to visit me. I've missed him a lot. We used to meet up in Silicon Valley for coffee and books lunch, dinner at Mike's cafe with Maureen or hitting up the Asian markets in Sunnyvale or San Jose's Japan town looking for strange and wonderful treasures (Men's Pocky!).

One of the big bummers of moving south is lack of lunch partners. New company, new city will do that to you. So it was a boon to have an old friend to kick around with and share my new town. All summer long I'd send him emails and talk to him on the phone from my various LA adventures... and now was my chance to have him experience those things first hand.

It started out with a dream I wanted to experience. I drive by the Georgian almost everyday on my way to work. I see the happy people drinking their coffee on the verandah. I wanted to be one of those people on the verandah, so I made Mike stay at the Georgian and I met him for breakfast. There we were, sitting outside, the sun shining in our faces and it occurred to me that my dream came true. At that moment I was aware that I was experiencing my dream as reality. It didn't change my dream or my reality. It didn't change anything. I was just more aware. And happy that my dream came true.

It made me realize that dreams don't have to be big things. They can be simple and small things. Dreams come true everyday, if you let them.

primer iter paris

I took Latin when I was in College. It was three of us geeky English majors sitting with our new firecracker professor in her office learning vocabulary, declinations, conjugations, ablatives, accusatives and more. It wasn't enough to know the word usage was an ablative, it was an ablative of importance, or something else... I still remember those drill sergeant declinations of vocabulary with a fondness.

It was through Latin class that I was introduced to Satyricon. Pertonius's Satyricon - known in some circles as the first narrative novel. We read the story in English and referred back to the Latin (You know one of those little red books). One winter break in Kansas City, I discovered there was a film about the movie - it was by an Italian director I had never heard of. His name was Federico Fellini. Fellini's Satyricon was the name of the movie. This would be my first Fellini film. It's probably because of my fond memories of the series of event that lead me to Satyricon that I love it so. As much my memory and experience as the surrealism and reality that is found in Fellini Films.

Summer was coming and my life was changing again. I planned a trip to Brazil to become fluent in Portuguese. I asked my fellow Latin colleague, Elizabeth Sharpe, if she wanted to live in my house and take care of it while I was gone. (I had planned to only go for the summer... but ended up staying through the following December.) She did. And before I left she gave me a present. I think this has been the best present I have ever received. She painted a flowerpot in red and gold with the words "Primer Iter Paris" on it. She explained to me what that phrase meant. "First among equals." My throat still catches when I think of this story and when I remember her.

Primer Iter Paris does not mean I am any better than any other (we are all equals you see) it means I'm at the front of the line. I'm the one stepping off the airplane. I'm the one hacking through the bush, I'm the one plugging away at the keyboard, I'm the one with thunderlightening energy. It's known in some cultures as a nagual.

I am equal to you, and I will take the lead.

so much excitement

I blasted to work this morning - the top is down, my voice is coming back, I'm listening to my Roky Erikson tribute album. I am so happy to have decided to move and buy a place here and I suppose "settle" down. I think it's anything but settling... but we'll see. Alex was talking about buying a nice place where he could live ... forever, or at least a long time. This was an interesting reminder to me, because I used to so much have this feeling. That I wanted a house  where I could live "for all time". I had forgotten that's the way I felt about it. It's not surprising since I've been ungrounded for almost a year down. I've gotten comfortable with this freedom - however of recent it's been tiring. It's time to lock down and do some earthquake retrofitting.

I also feel like it's time to start being who I am again. It's not that I haven't been myself, but in this transition period (which is more or less over) I've given myself a long long leash from who I was. This has been good because I've tried on different personalities and taken a vacation from the person I had been for a good 5 years. That person is still who I am and there are characteristics of her that I really like and want to be; but I'm not limited to those choices and that world view anymore. The past few months have been an incorporation of the vacation heather and the pre-vacation heather. The selecting and weaving of characteristics from each skein. It's who I am. And part of who I am needs to be closer to earth nature... hence how good it feels to move inland.

My time at the ocean is coming to a close. I love the idea of living by the ocean, but the ocean is effective for me when I need to make great change; which I have been doing in the past year. What I need now, is grounding. And for that, I go to the mountains. I go to the trees.

There's so much excitement going on, on all fronts and the trick is to be sober and focused and remember what I want and do it. I feel like I can do anything - not like I am superwoman (I used to try very hard to be superwoman). Sure, it will take time, energy, hard work and there will be unexpected occurrences, ups and downs - but it's nothing I can't deal with. There's nothing I can't do (that I want to). The unknown and unexpected is what makes life interesting. It's what allows us the ability to respond.

biscotti

I've been wanting to make biscotti for the past couple weeks and haven't had the time. However this morning I found the motherlode of biscotti recipes. What choices. What delight.

a voice like sex and cigarettes

My voice has taken a little vacation all week. At first it was a mere day trip and Kathleen Turner's voice was left as a standin. Then Kathleen's voice left and I was the susurrator. Talking like the wind. I've gotten word from my voice that it took a little trip to Cambodia. It always talked about world travel and had a specific interest in SE Asia of recent. Cambodia was having a special sale on voice travel. But that leaves me in an interesting position - that of not having my voice.

I'll practice being quiet and not talking.

homebuying fever

I've got home buying fever. I have a limited time offer on the place I currently live and the time is running out. I just can't see the point of paying rent, so I'm looking into buying a house. I'm not about to plunk down what is needed to live by the beach and ocean and I'm somewhat bummed about that, but that is just because I have spent the entire summer living it up by the beach and loving it. It's also been a summer with lots of change and transition. Standard unusual.

So I went inland and started at another neighborhood I considered living in - Silverlake. The vibe is there, the cool kids are there, it feels like home, so why not live there? Hotter weather, further inland, no beach connection... but Griffth Park and closer to the desert and twisty Pasadena roads, crappier commute - same amount of time, less beautiful drive (this is all an assumption of course).

Then the coincidences happen again. There's the Los Feliz connection and my experience last weekend over there. Being lost in a city that is like my own. I had the same similar experience driving around it today. Uncannily familiar.

So, I'm watching this movie last night and it's got a scene of driving on the LA freeways and Alex says to me, "that's your freeway", and explains it's the 10 from santa monica driving east. I recognize some bits of it, the jump onto the 110 and then (I expected what I usually do - jump on the 101 to somewhat backtrack to a decent exit into Silverlake or LF) but no, the scene continues onto the 110. It's a freaky beautiful freeway. I've driven on it once or twice when I had the excitement of being Lars' sidekick at the Rubix cube convention at Cal Tech. The scene stops at a house in Mt. Washington. I've only ever heard about Mt. Washington from Alex. He's talked about that area being interesting and not as expensive as LF/SL. So I think to myself, I should check this out.

So I do. I got in touch with a realtor and got a bunch of listings. I did kind of expect the pricing to be less than they were, I mean, this is LA not the Bay Area. But whatever. I'll use my power and money to find the perfect house por moi.

Anyway, I spent the afternoon driving around twisty Berkeley Hills reminiscent roads. You know, the ones that have no middle line and you have to pull over to let the other car pass. I love this part of town. It's amazingly gorgeous. And I saw an amazing house too. But you know, you don't buy the first house you see, do you?

My only concern is the commute. How horrible will it be? I've got Lady Knight, so I can always moto it, but I hope we're not talking 880 styling. 880 has to be about the ugliest and most horrible traffic situation I have experienced on a regular basis. So that's a research item.

There are other fires on the mountain right now, but this is the one that's a burning at the moment. It should be fun and I really can't wait to have all my play toys unpacked and around the house. I miss my stuff.

beethoven in the mountains

It's funny how life is synchronistic sometimes and what my attention wavers around. I haven't listened to classical music for years. And I own very very few classical CDs. A few weeks ago, I put my copy of Beethoven's Symphony #9 in the car. I thought it would be nice variety to mix in with my classic rock, ambient, electronica, etc. I didn't even remember what Symphony #9 sounded like, but I knew I liked it, if I owned the CD. So I finally pop it in last weekend. It comes up on the CD changer Monday morning as I'm driving to my apartment in the morning traffic. (Yes, Heather stayed out.) Image my surprise when the second movement started and I immediately recognized it and remembered why I owned the cd. It's the movement that is used in Clockwork Orange. So I'm shifting in bumper to bumper traffic on the 101, 110 and 10 having a serious dose of synchronicity thanks to the universe (especially since I had just left Horrorshow Alex). Unwittingly getting the frying pan smacked on my head again (or was it my ass this time?) Synchronicity is not a coincidence in my life. Neither are coincidences. "Everything happens for a reason, sometimes that reason is yet unknown to man and the universe."

So the past week, I've been driving to work and Beethoven comes on. This morning it was on Malibu Canyon Road. The past few days I've found myself behind very slow large moving vehicles. I've been calm and only slightly irritated. I like to glide around the curves even if I'm in the car. So to get my smooth riding fix, I've peeled off Malibu Canyon and taken Muholland Highway to Kanan Road. This is a great nice short smooth ribbon of pavement with amazing view of these sugerloaf like mountains. I was blasting the choral for symphony # 9 (movement #5 / number nine, number nine, number nine) and pulled off the road at the cross. I was going for a hike in the mountains again - this time before work. Wearing the same flouncy skirt and high heels. (They must ache to get into nature.) I hiked to a flat cement platform that overlooks the Pao de Asucar mountains (a harkening to that big one overlooking Avenida Atlantica in a bay further south and to the east). I spend some time up there, feeling the wind, looking at the view and listening to the birds. I told those mountains, the shrubbery, the wind my desires, my wants and then got back in my car and headed onto work.

That's what living my life with more passion is all about. It's about stopping and talking to the wind. It's about taking the twisty road to work because you know there is a limited time offer on this commute route. It's about spending the night with someone because you may never have the chance again. It's about living in the moment and knowing you can die at any moment. It's about being alive.

Not eating at home brings good fortune

The last couple nights I've had the great good fortune to have two really good friends cook me dinner. I had fabulous homemade Italian at Gloria's (rigatoni with ragu and caprese salad - my favorite!). It was a nice evening spent talking. I started coming down with a cold/sore throat and she gave me this yellow Chinese pills. I love talking with her because I am always reminded me to never give up on my wild side.

Last night I popped up to Camarillo to see Carson, who is my best friend. I have such abstract affection for him. I love him dearly and care for him. As we both experience our worlds and refine ourselves and our desires we bang the rocks against each other, chipping off the rough surfaces. Don't jump to a conclusion - we're completely platonic. (It was not always the case, if you know the story.) Tasty chicken with beets and turnips. Salad with red pepper and toasted pine nuts. Conversations about relationships and living your life in response to the environment.

I can feel the energy in these home cooked meals. It's good for my throat. It's good for my soul.

what do I want?

It's a question I ask myself. I find myself knowing exactly what I want and how to get it and be it. And then, something changes.

As I experience the world, is the fine tuning of what I want. And that changes based on the landscape changing. I was worried about this. Worried that I could not be consistant. But I am consistant in my exploration. And consistant in experience. It's reader response. Or literally: Heather response.

But it's time for a new set of actions. I want my own place - my own space. And there are some other things too. More on them later.

pelicans

I've been watching the pelicans as I sit in traffic on PCH during my morning commute. I can't help but notice them. They lap their wings, they glide, they pause and then dive down into the ocean. There is a small splash and then the bob on the surface. I see them pause and dive over and over. A tiny splash. I see how they relax their entire body before they dive. That's the way to do it. Stalk, track, pluck your moment with a pause and then relax everything as you give a grand gesture.

I've been keeping this in mind as I live. I'm good at the stalk, track and take aim; but I can be more relaxed in the execution. It's not an emergency. (Nothing is an emergency.)

So that's the trick to sobriety. Aim with your complete passion. Be meticulous in your planning. Abundant in your release. Pause a moment before you pull the trigger.

city streets and memories collide

I took city streets to Los Feliz from Santa Monica last night. It was dark, the neon, traffic and shop lights gave personality to LA's very different neighborhoods. Santa Monica, Westwood, Beverly Hills (Thriller again playing through the good Beverly). I stopped in Hollywood to wash the car. The streets were not wet, but they reminded me of rain slicked streets. I arrived in Los Feliz village a bit earlier than I needed to, so I decided to explore the area. Check out the houses, get the vibe of the neighborhood. The first time I drove on Vermont Street I loved the area. I was meeting my friend Suzanna for dinner before the Pixies at the Greek Theater. I've never seen Vermont street during the daytime. At night, it welcomes me. It reminds me of so many places and yet none at all. I turned off the main road and started taking the dog legs. You know, dog legs, the streets that stop at a three way and then continue straight again after you take a quick jog to the left. I'm getting the feeling of this neighborhood more and more. It's Oakland in my mind. Oakland with lots of palm trees. It's a strange feeling. The comfort I have in this part of the city, because I am familiar with it's vibe from another city. It's definitely the Oakland I know at night.

I'm driving around. I end up in the Hills again. It's so much like the northern towns I lived in. I come onto a wide thoroughfare. It's so much like other dark cities I know. I forget I am in LA. I forget where I am going and why I am in this part of town. I am fascinated with this feeling. With this driving around, complete satisfaction and comfort and delight. Delight in exploring, in finding the newness in this city. The houses, apartment complexes, the streets, some narrow, some wide. The hills steep enough I remember to curb my wheels. I know this is not the cities I have known. I know it is a different city. I love it nonetheless. Its cloak is so close to what I know. I enjoy immensely this feeling of comfort and discovery as I drive around aimlessly, feeling the city, kissing it's city streets in a long meandering rubber embrace.

I grow tired of this feeling. It's worn off and time has ticked away. I have successfully gotten myself lost. I don't know how to get there from here. I attempt some minor maneuvers, but, I've fully discombobulated my brain and I can't remember which streets are familiar to me because they are the streets of this city or another. I'm stopped at Hollywood and Sunset (Mission and Valencia) there's no Odeon, but it's the same. I'm a mere 5 minutes away. The familiar feeling of Vermont Street. You take the exit from 101 and in a couple short miles you'll arrive at Farley's or maybe Jack's 62. It depends on which city you exit 101 from. Is it Potrero Hill or Los Feliz? The neighborhoods are distinctly different.

Writing about this experience now, makes me ponder about my emotions towards people in my life. New people in my life. Men. It's so easy for me to do certain roles very very well. I've had years to practice. And I know there are certain flavors of people that I like very very much. So like the city streets of los feliz, my feelings towards men. Familiar flavors, different people. Unknowns all around. And in my mind both; Enjoyment of the comfortable things and knowing there is the unknown.

My mind is calculating. Comparing myself to myself. Rubbing the rocks together. Chipping the stones. Polishing the diamonds.

life with more passion

I watched Hermeto Pascoal play tonight at UCLA. It was an amazing show. The energy and feeling of the music reminded me of music one night at Burning Man. I saw the music in the air. I saw it again tonight.

I come away from the performance with this one thought. ... That I must live my life with more passion. As passionate as I am... I hold myself back. No more. As of tonight, I open the gates of my passion all the way.

a photo of my aeon flux costume

I've noticed quite a few hits to my weblog with a variety of words in the title of this post. The men are chomping at the bit, they want to see pictures of my aeon flux costume. Well, here it is, I'll give you the picture, but you have to give me your mind.

First off, let's start with a description of the form the costume will clothe. I'm not tall, I'm not short. I'm unremarkable, except you can't forget me because I have amazing amounts of energy. There's magic in the shine of my eyes. And when you talk to me I may hit you over the head with various activities or stories that pop out of my mouth like soybeans from perfectly cooked edamame. You'll wonder am I for real? Am I making these things up. This person in front of me can't be who I think she is (and I'm not, I'm out of this world). The blonde hair has recently been cut short with jagged ends that become more pronounced with the application of hair pomade, wax and shine products. My eyes are outlined in black liquid eyeliner. I'm a fan of black liquid eyeliner because I want to live my life like a Fellini film. I want to be a living character out of a Fellini film - which is just to say, I want to live. Living is acting. Acting is exploring possibilities. And there are a lot of possibilities out there. And I want to experience as many possibilities as possible, regardless of the reality in which I experience them. (Random thought: I am enamored by China Mievelle's possibility machine, and of course have a crush on Uther Doul at the same time as I am transfixed by the Brucolac and would submit to his gore tax. It's a good thing I don't walk in that reality.) But enough, onto Aeon of a few nights.

Why Aeon Flux? What's the story behind my costume? Behind my perception of this character.

Since the first time I saw her eyelash trapping the fly on MTV as a teenager I was transfixed. She carried a gun. She killed men. (She killed women.) She wore barely anything. She worked for no one. She had control. She was out of control. She died. And she returned. She had the most fabulous hair I had ever seen. (Princess Leah couldn't even think about competing with Aeon.) I wanted to be here then. 15 years ago as a teenage girl. I dreampt. I would be the ass kicking, gun wielding, whip snapping, tongue probing, exotic, erotic, hard core, soft worn forever changing, never tied down. Constantly dying, always living.

I found a seamstress who was willing to make a costume for me. Her name was Taisia and she lived in Oakland. I brought her the comics, photos of various costumes and together we formed a pattern. We opted for the long sleeved, high necked top that stops just below the breast. Taisia suggested crushed black velvet. It reflects a richer light than leather or plastic or vinyl and would be more comfortable. She made amazing seam work patterns, circles, darts, seams around the breasts. High shoulder pads and a turtle neck that caressed its way to the lower chin.

The typical Aeon Flux bottom is a skimpy g-string. Of course this works in an animated short. For reality, it's completely unrealistic, especially if you are going to wear any kind of stockings or fishnets. And no, I don't really want to show all of my ass to random or not so random people. So, Taisia and I designed a bottom that was Brazilian cut with a nice "W" design in the front. She also made a belt that went around my waist and connected to the top. From the belt a bag and gun could be attached. This year, however, I decided against the belt. My torso is just not lanky enough to have a belt around it and get the same look. That's ok. Instead, this year, I added a fishnet body suit to the mix. Flesh always looks better when you have to see it through something.

So here we have me, crushed black velvet top, long black arms, tall black neck giving way into a mess of blonde hair that has the perfect "just got out of bed" look. Black lined eyes, with a touch of blue, black mascara on a pale white complexion with full red lips (talking to you of your possibilities). Your eyes can not help but scan down, they stop and try to find the angles/angels in the velvet. Your hopes of knowing the truth are crushed as the light is reflected to give way to unnaturally appealing shapes. The velvet ends and the fishnet begins. The navel, the shape of my waist as black triangle flesh tone again plunges into velvet. Metal rings, brushed buttons and then you see the patent leather. (Musical interlude: "Kiss the boots, of shiny shiny leather...",  "These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do...") The boots are the highlight of the costume. They are the highlight of my closet. With these boots I am an easy 6 ft. They force my toes, calves, thighs into unusual uncomfortable positions. The legs are clothed in shiny shiny leather to my upper thigh. There's but a few inches of bare fishnet leg, but it's enough to catch your breath, your attention.

And then you move your attention my hand, which is muted in black driving gloves. The knuckles pop out as a rare piece of uncovered flesh and a space enough for you to rest your lips.

"Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name." I'll give you a hint. I'm sometimes known as a not so famous and very deadly serious Irish water faerie.

You have kissed the hand of Aeon. The ever ending feminine force. Destructive. Creating. Your world in her womb. My world in mine.

Update October 2006: How to be Aeon Flux.

day of the dead

I'm living life like I'm on vacation. What's that? It's a frame of mind. The sky was beautiful as I drove to work today with top down and the best hits of Duran Duran blasting out the stereo. I admit, I really like some Duran Duran. It's a guilty pleasure. I'm rocking out to Notorious, Girls on Film, the Union of the Snake and Rio as I cruise on PCH and then into Malibu Canyon. The sky is so clear. The air is warm. I've got my gloves on and I'm thinking about a bunch of things.

I decide to turn off Malibu Canyon onto Mulholland. There are some really amazing hills/mounds just west/north west that blow my mind. I noticed a white cross at a turn out and pulled over. The winds were gorgeous and skirting the cliffs like a tongue across teeth searching for the moistness. I stood on the edge and the wind lifted my hair. I looked down and thought of what might have been a final wild ride. Probably somewhat different from my own personal experience. They were 21 and 22 when they went over the edge. Her necklace swings on the cross. I wonder, were they star crossed lovers. Romeo and Juliet of Mulholland? Were they in a car or on a bike? Was it night or day?

So many questions to ask on the day of the dead. I paid them my respects. I do enjoy the company of ghosts. Then returned to my car, tipped my glasses at my faint colleague in the passenger seat and pulled out, not willing to kiss too deeply the lips of my cold self seated beside me.

Being on vacation, one chooses what one experiences. And that choice is a choice that happens at every instant and can be felt as the wind on the back of your neck.

scratch that / Osama bin Aeon Flux

my trip north got canceled. No Happy Hour. :(

But I did finally join a gym and get invited to a Halloween Party tonight. I'm dressing up as Osama bin Aeon Flux. What the hell is that you ask? It's my Aeon Flux costume with my Egyptian Galabah over it. I taunt the boys showing them my six inch thigh high stilletto boots under a while sheet, until they can't control themselves and then I throw it off.

Boys are so easy to peg sometimes.

I know you all want to see pictures of my Aeon Flux costume, so I'll have to take some pictures.

Happy Hour with Heather in Palo Alto

A general announcement. For readers in the SF Bay Area, come hang with the Vescent one.

I guess I just can't stay away, I've got to be back in the Bay Area in November (this time for work).

I know it's a trek for some of you, but please join me at Nola's in Palo Alto on Monday night, November 8th for drinks and catch-up and maybe dinner.

November 8th, 7pm

Nola's
535 Ramona St
Palo Alto, CA 94301
Phone: (650) 328-2722
http://siliconvalley.citysearch.com/profile/920419/palo_alto_ca/nola.html?cslink=search_name_noncust&ulink=search__searchslot2_520__0_profile_2_1

if you want a PM/Marketing job in LA...

Of course it happens like this. I take a job and then am inundated with recruiters and job possibilities. I'm not the kind to turn tail once I've made a commitment (although I have been know to change my mind on a dime), so if you are looking for a product management/marketing job in the Los Angeles area, drop me a line (blog at heathervescent dot com) and I can hook you up.

Recruiters, you can keep on contacting me, but you're gonna have to give me my dream job beyond my wildest dreams. Yes, that's a challenge. ;)

jonothan carroll wrote me back

on his blog at least.

question: i am constantly surprised and yet not surprised on how your stories directly relate to what is going on in my life. My mind was blown this afternoon merely by reading page 119 of sleeping in flame. the offer is open: if you're in LA, I'll buy you a drink. Just let me know.- heathervescent

Ah Heather, I don't know when I'll be in LA again (I sort of avoid it as much as I can). But it's good to know someone with a name like yours will stand me a drink. That's almost reason enough to come out there...

yeah, I have to admit... I make the drink offer to folks that I want to meet. It's a long shot in most cases but I meet interesting people.

his beautiful and haunting site is on this link.

oh my god, he has a blog too....

san francisco can eat my commute

Really, San Francisco scenery can not even come close to comparing to my commute everyday. I get the ocean waves crashing in, then a twisty ride through serious canyon roads. I've seen nothing like these mountains in Marin, the Peninsula (not even La Honda) or 92 or 1 up north (Devil's Slide doesn't even come CLOSE!) or Wine Country or the east bay (well, maybe Mines Road comes close) but still...

It's been raining so the rocks appear especially jagged and outcropped and the shrub is moist and green and the fog is caught on the tops of rocks and trees and mountains like tufts of cotton. I used to see this on 280 as I drove south from San Francisco - but you know, even 280 is a poor comparison now. Although I miss my trees and Crystal Springs.

I feel like I drive through Machu Picchu every day. I can't believe it myself, Los Angeles (well Santa Monica Mountains) is really easy on the eyes. What a wonderful way to start and end the day. I can't think of anything better - except maybe living in them. But then I wonder - would I love them so? Maybe I'll find out someday. Until then, I will continue having the best commute ever! (And probably blogging too much about it too.)

your own online fortune teller

This is totally cool! It's the I Ching online.

Wow - it just blew my mind.

the most beautiful song ever

I heard this at Burning Man and just found it online. I wish I could find an electronic copy. Anyone have it? It's a mix of Chris Issac's Wicked Game and Praise by Fatboy Slim entitled: "Praise Your Wicked Game". Check a sample here and let me know if you find an electronic copy.

my only friend, the rain

I woke up this morning to the sound of rain, ocean waves and crackles in my ear. The pitter patter always makes me feel so cozy. I squirreled around in my comforter, feeling my sheets on my skin, utter cozy, comfortable in soft plushy down, covers up to my chin, head resting in my crackling pillow. Stretching out my legs, arms, cracking my ankles, twisting my wrists, mashing my head into the pillow.

Finally I pull my feet out of the covers. Fur through my toes, firm wood below. I open my closet and look for some cozy rainy weather clothes - they're hard to come by. I've fully accepted my new city and have LA looks (or at least my LA looks) and few pieces of my cozy SF rainy winter clothes. They're in a box somewhere. I find some black tights, an old skirt and mix them with my high heels and blue leather jacket. I throw in a fluffy scarf for additional coziness.

Cozy rainy day. Fog on the mountain. The strata distinguished by the rain. A streak of clear blue on the horizon above the ocean. Grey pavement and puddles of brown water. My eyes consume the canyon hills like the film in a fly away shot. They eat up the moist shrubbery and stop on the jagged lines. Breathe, breath through the valleys.

tech blog award

completely and utterly clipped from Marketing Sherpa...
Sounds pretty interesting, so pass it along...

Tech Blog Award Nominations
Know anyone who writes a blog that IT guys would love? Tell them to nominate themselves for CMP TechWeb's Blog Awards. Top 10 finalists will get a month's worth of links and publicity as TechWeb site visitors (NetworkComputing.com, IntelligentEnterprise.com, NetworkMagazine.com, and TransformMag.com) vote for the winners.

The blog can be written by a vendor exec -- but not by anyone employed as a full-time journalist by the tech press. Winners, to be announced mid-Nov, get bragging rights and a $500 Starbucks gift card:
http://www.techweb.com/blogawards/nominate.html

open invitation

This is an open invitation to go for a ride with me in the santa monica mountains. You'll meet me in LA. I'll choose the route but it will most definitely include Piuma canyon and may include tuna canyon, mulholland highway or decker canyon. You will need to bring some funky music or else we will listen to michael jackson and jameriquoi. Please be sure to bring your death. It will need to keep mine company in the back seat. There is no plan to become intimate with death - I just want to make sure you specifically bring it along for the ride. Death likes to get out more often than you would think. You may also want some sunglasses and a hat. I have heated seats.

Contrary to what you may think of my driving from my last few posts, I am an excellent driver. Come and experience for yourself. I'm not on a death wish, I'm on a life wish.

This is a serious offer. If you are serious about taking it, please post a way for me to reach you in the comments.

Thanks!

ps. this is for a ride in my car. if you want to moto it around, I'm game, but I don't really take passengers (or be a moto passenger - except for suzanna when we go to fresno!)

i drove off the canyon road today

On the way home from work tonight I took Piuma Canyon as I am wont to do. I put new tires on the snob last week for the drive to San Fran. She drove a lot better - stuck to the road more, along with a smoother ride. I've been testing out the limits of the tires just to see how far I can take them... I think today I took it a little too far. Part of the problem is that I've also gotten into wearing driving gloves, which makes me get into a race car driver mentality. The smooth leather on my steering wheel and stick shift really makes me feel what's going on with the engine, with the road. Today we went on a wild ride.

I turned onto Piuma Canyon road and start peeling up the twisties. Keeping it in second gear - just enough friction on the engine for a slight decelleration prior to entry and power to accelerate through them. Tires stick to the road very nicely. I'm pushing the car - the tires actually - trying to see what it takes to get them to skid or go into a 4 wheel drift. For once I don't have the top down and I'm not blaring the stereo. I'm fully concentrating on the road. Follow the double yellow line - don't look to the edge - don't notice that there is no barrier. I'm using my motorcycle driving skill and looking at where I want to go. Try not to pay attention to the mountain tops that are getting closer and closer to your level (or as I get closer and closer to the tops of the mountains) and then it happens. I've pushed the limit too much. I'm accelerating through a curve and it tightens and opps... tire goes off the road followed by the rest of the car and it's a roller coaster ride. Bushes, rocks, bouncing, - it all happened so fast. I took my hands off the wheel, put the car in neutral and road it on out. Shrubbery flying past my windshield, my face not that far from it thanks to my seat belt. And then all was stopped. What a shock to look up, and outside my front window is not the black pavement with the double yellow, but someplace you would usually hike too. Adrenaline is pumping, but I'm more or less ok. A bit shaken up, perhaps somewhat bruised and the snob - well, I was talking about wanting a new car ...

I took a moment to compose myself and take a couple deep breaths. I pondered my this experience - the ride down the hill in my saab and my current situation - that of being stopped on the side of a hill in the malibu mountains. Breathe, breathe, breathe.

My bag was flung to the floor, but my cell phone was still in it and for some amazing reason I had cell phone service. I called 911 for medical and then AAA to send a tow out. By this point I was ready to take a bigger look at my current situation. My windows were down and so I undid my seatbelt and crawled out the driver window - feet planted on solid ground. Damn, I didn't go that far down. Positive: not a big tow, Negative: short ride. I mean, if you're gonna go off the canyon road you may as well go all the way down. That's the way I like to live my life - do it with exuberance - 110%.

I fumbled myself over to some rocks and took a seat. I at least had a great view of the valley and the hills just behind Agora. I felt the wind in my hair. I looked at the saab - not as trashed as I might have expected. I'll need new tires, but she may be salvageable.

It's not an emergency so the tow pulls up first. It's the same guy who helped me out when I blew the clutch in July. He winches the saab up onto the pavement and onto his truck. I'll have him tow it back to LA and see what Harry can do.

Me, I'm ok. The medics check me out, want to take me to the emergency room... I'd rather ride in the tow truck, I take a couple ibuprofens and fumble for a pen and paper to get Harry's number. Last time I saw Harry, he told me about a crash he got into and walked away. A semi clipped the front of his car and swung him around to get hit head on which spun him around to smash into another car that lead his car to get hit from behind. When his bumper car stopped he had been hit on every side. He was wearing his seatbelt and walked away from the accident. He'll enjoy the story I'll tell him tonight.

Did you enjoy it?

I'm sitting here in front of my glowing display and thinking of Fellini's Toby Dammit. I love the scenes where Toby is driving his car around crazily lost in the streets of Rome. I remember the haze in the twilight sky over the canyons when I was sitting on the rocks today. I remember the blue haze across the broken bridge in Fellini's movie. The crazed look and flooring the pedal and into the blue.

Was this written account what I physically, viscerally experienced or was it a moment's unmemory, unexperience as my tires continued to grip the road and I accelerated into the turn, driving off into the blue?

do you have a place for rent?

OK, I want to live on Piuma Canyon Road, or Steurt or Saddleback or even Tuna Canyon road. Topanga might out too. Who has a fabulous guesthouse with some space that needs a little heathervescent? If you do, send me email to blog at heathervescent dot com. I want to find my excellent place. Do you have it?

Piuma Canyon, Piuma Canyon, Piuma Canyon

two random items

how the hell did I get on the playboy catalog list? yes, it was sent to my name to my po box. huh?!

I've started wearing leather gloves when driving. I love the grip of the wheel and stick with the leather. Plus they look super cool (two toned mauve/wine/pink). I think I'm gonna start a driving glove collection. When buying leather gloves, remember, they will stretch.

RSS reader

what do you use for your RSS reader/aggregator? I'm playing around with RSS feeds from various sites.

death

I get in these moods where I feel like nothing matters. (Nothing really does matter.) And that there is really no point to living. (Your life is what you make of it.) And death comes to everyone. (It can visit at any time.) And in the scheme of the universe, it doesn't really matter if I die today or in 20 years or 50. So why bother existing. It's such a hassle, it takes so much energy to live.

Now don't get all freaked out - I'm not about to kill myself, but sometimes, it just seems like what's the point of living? What's the point of continuing to exist in this world, with all these people, with my quirks and mentalities and strife and challenge and beauty and flowers and carnaval music. It's not like it matters what I do - it only matters to me. So why continue bother doing it?

When I get into these moods I'm dangerous. I lose my concern for myself, my safety. I have a tendency to do even more reckless things than usual with complete detachment and lack of concern for most anything in my life - my cells, my brain, my friends, my family, my thoughts, my bones and sinew and blood.

Why do I think of death as something to cheat? Something to avoid? Something negative. Death is not negative, we can't avoid it nor cheat it. My death is my friend. I look forward to the time when I have an intimate kiss with my death. It may be tonight or next week or years from now. So why should I live my life in opposition to my destination? I won't.

A couple songs come to mind, Sweet Old World sung by Emmylou Harris and this quote from old Bill. It's one of my favorites these days: "Only those who can give up everything they have ever believed in, can hope to escape." What about when Edgar walls up my third staircase? What about my escape then?

cool product alert

This bag was so cool I had to buy one. It's made from material that has been in space and not burned up by the atmosphere. And it's orange.

"Front flap with ORANGE piece of 1990 Soyuz TM-8 Space mission landing parachute."

Is this totally cool or what?! You can buy one too. Here's a link to the site.

a question for all you blog readers

I've thought about it for years, but some part of me thinks it's totally silly, but I kind of want to change my name to Vescent. I know, you are shocked... is that my real last name? No it's not. So I pose a question to my readers, should I change my name to be legally Heather Vescent? Let me know and I'll get started on the legal paperwork.

my new work mantra

"it's not about winning, it's about making dreams come true."

ass was not kicked

When I usually go to the desert my ass gets kicked in some way and my body is somewhat debilitated. Not this time. I think it's because I didn't drink any alcohol. Lesson to finally learn - don't drink alcohol in the desert - regardless of how little.

At Burningman I met a really interesting person - he was in the same Village and camped not 15 feet away. If you look at the Tazii photos, he's the one who is sticking his tongue out at me. I was so struck with him, because I had very low expectations that someone like him existed. Well, I was pretty sure he existed, but I had no way to go about confirming it. (Bjork line here: I miss you, and I haven't met you yet.) So needless to say I was completely and utterly blown away to be face to face with a fluffy, horned, jauntie, clever, sensitive person. Perfectly costumed as Mr Jauntie, my current patron Saint. It was no coincidence.

G met me in LA on Friday and Friday night we headed to Barstow to meet Carson. I wanted to show G the Vision Cave and introduce him to Carson. We arrived late - stuck in bumper to bumper traffic the last 10 miles into Barstow at 1am! We had the top down and found some R&B Hip Hop station to whomp on the sub woofer as it took us 20 minutes to go 1 mile.

Next morning, like a herd of desert tortoises, we took 40 east to Water Road. There's nothing here. A grated road that goes along the powerline. Pass the little Paiutes, then the Paiutes (no water there) then the first turn west after the entopic cattle wrangling enclosure takes you to the base of the Old Woman's. Skirting along the base until we reach the rocks that have the Vision Cave - not really a cave, but an overhang with petroglyphs on the walls. The floor of the cave has gotten very dirty with bird droppings and I later cleaned it with water and very expensive french champagne.

There's not much out there in the desert except rocks, wildlife and a whole lot of silence. No buzzing laptops, radios, cell phones or traffic noise. Just wide open space. The silence is thick. Huge piles of rock play with your long distance vision - is that one pile or are there several canyons behind it that I just can't see. The rocks blend and undulate with the light and color striations and desert patina.

We arrived late afternoon and it was blazing hot. Not much stirring about - some jackrabbits, some quail, a few lizards. We parked near the painted rock and went to see what changed. The bees were still there, there was a little water at the edge of the wash (one of the only places that almost always has water - even in the past 6 years of drought). It had rained recently and we saw the rivulets in the road, yet it was very sandy and gave our 4 wheel drive a run for it's money. I grabbed some snacks and found some shade in the shadow of the big rocks and sat down to look out and enjoy the silence. I laid back and looked up at the rocks going into the sky. At the hollow places in the rocks. At the view of the vision cave. The wash. The dry mountains of rock and scrub, junipers, barrel cacti, choya and native grasses.

I wandered over to the cave, where I checked out the floor situation. The floor has been worn smooth by many years of human butts sitting on it and it is usually very clean. No animals live in the cave, some birds make their home above it, but usually they don't shit in the cave. Last time I was there, the floor was covered with bird shit and I brought some cleaning supplies (water and scrub brush) to clean it up.

I became sleepy in the cave - so I laid down on my shirt and dozed for a while. The floor of the cave is uneven and there are nice walls to lean against. It's open on two sides - one side drops at least 25 feet to the wash below where the bees live. This opening give a grand view of one edge of rock. It's cracked and has several sunburst holes where the sparrows live. I heard the droning of the bees and watched the birds flying around in the increasingly cooler light. It's a nice place to ponder those things in your mind. What you believe, who you are, what you are doing, happiness, life, etc.

The sun would go over the ridge early so I rousted myself to make camp: set up the tent, roll out the sleeping bags, check on the fire situation and start thinking about dinner. Carson and I brought complimentary desert food and Geno had stopped at the Health Food store in Barstow (yes, can you believe it, a health food store in Barstow of all places). We collected wood and got dinner fixings out, black beans seasoned with desert sage and chiltpotes, corn, fresh tomatoes, red pepper and lettuce. The cans bubbled in our small cooking fire and we watched the sun set behind the ridge.

Dinner was served and we climbed up on some rocks to eat and watch the view. Slowly the sky became darker and the stars came out. We finished up and started to clean up. Darker and darker it got in the shadow of the rock and then rose the moon. It was not quite full and shining bright - we didn't need flash lights and could see our moonshadows.

We took a walk into a canyon leading to the ridge. It was cool moonlight and we didn't use any illumination. The rocks took on a new feeling. They were realer than real. They were alive and we saw faces and characters in those rocks. They said to us - you can not imagine how long we have been here and how long still we will remain. Their desert patina exhaled the heat of the day as we walked past. We saw doorways in a juniper and passageways in rocks. We saw the leering old man sitting with his cat and cocktail waiting for the swimsuit session of Miss USA to begin - he was watching out towards the east. The show would unfold over the next million or so years.

We wandered back to camp and took turns watching the mice jump around and scurry over our dirty dishes and empty cans. These desert mice may never have had canned corn or black beans and no amount of light or fire or humans would scare them to immobility. We didn't want to scare them away, but instead flanked them on three sides (Geno in the throne seat, Carson to the east and me to the west.)

Exhaustion caught up with me and I fell into my tent. I didn't bring my blow up mattress, so was left to sleeping on my yoga mat which was basically not sleeping. It's a night of tossing and turning, waking up and looking at the stars.

Dawn brought the sounds of quail and coyotes and cool light soon to turn into the heat of midday. I rousted myself out of the tent. Breakfast was toast over a fire, hot chocolate, cheese and mandarin oranges. The day was cool and it was time to clean the cave. I got my scrub brush and some water and spent some quality time scrubbing away.

Then it was time to head back to civilization. It was a fairly short trip - not without it's revelations. And it was really nice to have such a pleasant time. Next trips calls for a visit to the Miner's Cabin in my big burly truck and serious alone time for H. It might be a while though.

Trick the tricker?

Ghost in the Shell quoted yesterday, "The trickster is the easier one to trick" - is it really? I am not so sure. I'm gonna be paying attention.

how to ruin a good thing - email marketing gone bad

I love Mark Morford's Morning Fix. I never read it on the web - I've always had it emailed to me. When I first subscribed to his morning fix, he covered interesting things that I found I liked - his take on the top stories, an article about something he was thinking about, responses to letters people wrote to him, copies of hate mail he got, strange and wonderful historical facts about San Francisco, haiku's and links to some of the most interesting stuff on the web. His writings are not mainstream. They are probably considered liberal, somewhat pornographic, irreverent, highly political and just plain rude. I think his stuff is genius. He is a wonderful thinker and questions the social reality we are fed by mainstream media. He is a culture jammer.

Why does this matter? It doesn't. What matters is that I used to get his morning fix in my mailbox and I loved it. It was one of the highlights of my week (3 times a week) when I was working for the corporate devil. The Chronicle has since slashed the fix and the interesting thing is... I don't read it that often anymore - and you know what - I don't read the SF Gate website either - which I had started doing when I was actively reading the Fix. This is a case study in how to do email marketing WRONG. Let's break down the situation and put it in business terms.

You have HeatherVescent - a subscriber to Mark Morford's Morning Fix - an opinion column on SF Gate's website. SF Gate is the web version of The San Francisco Chronicle. The morning fix is emailed to her with a variety of content including Mark's full length opinion article. Heather really enjoys reading the fix - not only the opinion article, but also the other information. She doesn't always have time to read the whole email, but she does almost always (90%) of the time open it up. She notices that sometimes there is a picture with the Fix - but you can only see the picture from the SF Gate website. There are also top stories that Mark has rewritten that link back to the SF Gate website. She often clicks on one of the links and is taken to the SF Gate article online. She finds she likes reading the stories online and more often than not, spends more time looking at other articles online. She starts to poke around in other areas that are interesting to her such as Tech and Business and reads articles in those areas. She adds SFGate to her list of quick book marks and puts it as her homepage on her home computer. Before too long, Heather is checking into SF gate almost everyday and reading stories. She likes SF Gate and enjoys going to the website. She checks it several times a day to see the top stories changing. She likes getting the fix, looks forward to it several times a week and checks the SF Gate site regularly.

Time goes by and there is a lapse in the email Fix - NO EXPLANATION - and then Heather starts getting HTML formatted emails with the first 2 or 3 paragraphs of Mark's opinion column and a link to his story on the SF Gate website. None of the other stuff that used to be in the fix is there. Heather continues getting the fix. She opens the email and sees that the whole article is not there - this frustrates her. (The formatting has been changed without her permission or even notice - change is BAD.) For a while she clicks on through to the SF Gate website to read the article - but it really is a hassle. To read the article takes time - if a web browser is not popped, one has to be launched and with the bloated NS 7.2 or hefty IE it takes some time before the browser is popped and it takes a lot of computer resources. If a browser is not popped it often steals a window with some other webpage that Heather feels is important enough to leave open. This is frustrating because she will have to open up another web browser manually (it doesn't always work when it pops a new browser window) or will have to navigate back to the previous page in the web browser before my email client passed the URL.

Heather decides this is just too much work to read the fix. "The fix is something fun that I take a moment in my day to read - I don't want it to interfere with my work." Since the format changed Heather has stopped going to the SF Gate site (the links that drove her to the site are no longer included the email). She's doesn't read the fix that often anymore and she's even stopped opening the email.

I want to want to read the fix. I love the content Mark writes - I don't always agree with his views, but it's a still a free country. But come on, Chron/SF Gate - you ruined a good thing. Really. Mark's email newsletter, the way it originally was, had successfully transitioned me from a consumer who never read SFGate.com to someone who checked out the site several times a day. (Pay attention: you were making money on my clickthroughs via your display ads). And look at my attitude now: I have a negative attitude about the site and I feel angry. Something I really enjoyed was changed to something more difficult - because YOU wanted me to go to your site. You are FORCING me to go to your site to read content I could get in my email. And I won't do it, no matter how much I like the content. It's asking too much from me as a consumer/reader. I used to go to SF Gate all the time, but it was because I WANTED to go there, not because I am being FORCED to go there.

I hope email marketers are paying attention. It's true, you can get further with honey than vinegar and it works in the online world too.

just another day in LA

I've got a lot of blog posts to finish up and make live, but first, I want to brag about what I did today - because to me - it was the kind of day I love having.

G had to leave by 10am this morning to make it to work on time. It was really great hanging out for 5! days straight and we didn't drive each other crazy. That's a good and scary thing. (Desert update post is half written.) Anyway after he left, I had most of the day to do whatever...

I headed over to Hollywood to catch the sequel to Ghost in the Shell called: Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence. There were 4 people in the theatre, 3 women and 1 guy and we all sat alone. The movie was excellent. Really mind blowing. The story line was good, the techno/robotic/intelligence mind warp was well done, although I couldn't stop thinking of PK Dick and BladeRunner and Hyperion. At the end of the movie an obvious enlightenment hit me - we all have ghosts and our bodies are our shells. It's a movie that questions what makes us human. What is the difference between a AI in a robot and me? The animation was AMAZING. The lights and shadows and movements and transparencies of colors and layers. Yum yum fun for the eyes, ears and cerebral cortex.

I saw the film at Arclight Cinema's on Sunset - which is now my favorite movie theater. Movies are reserved seating, they have a bar and cool stuff for sale. They have big Hollywood films and Independents. It's the best of everything and it's only 1 block from Amoeba. I've been wanting to pick up some new CDs so I finally had my excuse. I went totally crazy buying something like 30 CDs all the way from Al Green, Snoop, MethodMan, Moricheeba, Air, Jega, Stereolab, Chemical Brothers, David Bowie, Prince and Michael Jackson. I drove home via Sunset to the Ocean blasting Michael Jackson's hits. Thriller blasting as I pass through Beverly Hills. Billy Jean, Bad, Smooth Criminal as I lean in Sunsets turns (I like to drive my car like it's my motorcycle). It was completely decadent to drive down sunset listening to Michael Jackson and I loved every moment of it.

Home again, home again to the west side. To my little apartment home for the next month. And tomorrow it's back to the grind. Two weeks of vacation for the next year sucks... but that's what I've got. I've just got to remember all the great things I did the past 10 months.

who the hell reads my blog?

do you find it interesting? who are you? do you have a blog? do we have similar interests? maybe I'd be interested in reading your blog. so fess up and let me know. or don't continue being a lurker. ;)

back out to the desert

tomorrow I speak to the Mojave and the old woman. I'm heading out to the desert with some friends - an old one and a new one. We'll perhaps stop by the vision cave or the miner's cabin or maybe even camp on the plateau. Then G and I will go to another desert. Death Valley, the Sonoran. Who knows. But it will be an adventure for sure.

wednesday commute

I took over 2 hours to go home on Wednesday. I couldn't help myself and I took Piuma Road again. At a nice pull off, I pulled over and stood on the picnic tables looking out into the Valley and towards the ocean. The sun had just set and the sky was a Richard Mizrach pallet. I looked at the orange slice moon rising just over the hill to the southwest. A path was pointed out to me. I remembered my travels in Virginia when I would go for work and inevitably find myself out on some back road in my business clothes. That happened again. Wed I had opted for something a bit more girly than I ever wore in SF. A flouncy black skirt (recently bought in Venice) and a shimmery black top, some kind of psuedo yoga clothing. I was also wearing these great new high heels. I haven't owned high heels (except for my thigh high stilettos) for years and years and I would never have ever thought about wearing them. But, hey, I'm in Los Angeles, I'm someone new, the shoes fit, so I bought them.

Anyway, I step out of the snob in my flouncy sheer skirt and 2-3 inch high heels onto dusty gravely mountain top parking lot. I see the path before me across the road. I walk with precise steps over to it. My foot steps sound differently on the pavement from the gravel/dust. I walk up into the scrub, chaparral, santa monica mountain wilderness. It's sunset time, which means hunting time for cats, snakes, hawks. I know this and ask if I should turn back. My response is a small bird fluttering further down the path. So I walk on. Wearing high heels gives me the chance to be very precise about my walking and walk from my front thigh. It's a strut. It's calling power.

The brush scratched against my legs leaving scratches. I hoped I would not snag my skirt. I found myself not far from the road and still in view of my car on a rock out crop. I stood there, feeling the wind in the sheer ribs of my skirt, blowing my hair across my face, along my back, up my legs. My shoes firmly standing in the uneven rock. I looked at the traffic on Malibu Canyon below. I looked at the mountains. The sky. At the cars passing by.

I watched the sun set on the last day of summer. And I told my dreams to the wind.

broken kite string

an image from today.

waves crashing in aqua and blue and sand
dark mops and tan necks bob, float, disappear in the foam
sand sticks to my goosebumped flesh as I turn in response
to the snap of breaking string.

the sudden release and my gaze upwards
watches the kite catch in the wind and swim a new course.
I jump up, feet kicking sand, flesh a jiggling, the exhilaration of running in my lungs
eyes intently watching the sky.

The kite falls
I stop at the sea wall
I don't have the ... momentum, motivation to jump in
I want a new kite anyway.
I watch the black and fuchsia and gold and green kite sink in the channel.
Boats pass, fishermen fish.
My feet kick sand back to my towel.

boys

ok, it's one last post for tonight... I just want to write a little about something I've been thinking a lot about recently - boys. Can I just say, thank you universe. I admit, I had some concerns, I didn't think the kind of boy I like was out there ... but thank you for continuing to point them out to me. It's helping me identify the characteristics that I really like and are important. Like power, intelligence, bullshitter, vulnerable, sensitive, good with tools (chain saws and vibrators) and the list goes on. Thanks. I'm having a lot of fun.

a year ago

... I was getting ready for Clint's 29th birthday and the Wonderella Printed Open House at 1204 Neilson street. A few days later I moved out of the house and that was the jump for my leap of faith. It's been almost a year, and where I was then, to where I am today, is dramatically different.

Driving on the 405 tonight, I felt that LA is finally my home. The whole point of getting a job was to solidify my life in LA. It's done that after only 1 week. The moving transition is over. And although the adventure has been going on for years, it's a new chapter in the adventure. Let's see where this one leads us.

Friday commute home

Last week I started my new gig and with that started commuting again. I think I have the best commute in the world right now. I drive up PCH to a canyon road in Malibu (Malibu Canyon or Kanan Dume) and speed my way up and through the santa monica mountain to end it with a burst of speed on 101 before arriving at the illuminated box.

On Friday I rode my motorcycle with one of my new co-workers. We took Malibu Canyon to Piuma to Steurt to Saddleback to Tuna Canyon. The view from Piuma are AMAZING. This is one of the most amazing motorcycle roads I've been on - I think it's more amazing than Tuna Canyon, which I was so impressed with. At PCH we split up and I meandered down to santa monica only to stop at a beach just north of the palisades to strip off my moto gear and work clothes to find my bikini underneath. The sun had just set and I danced with the ocean. Stepping slimly into the effervescing waters and jumping forcefully into the waves. I would run in front of the waves as they tumbled towards the shore and then would splash about as the water receded. They sky was getting dark - but not dark enough for me to remove my bikini. More and more I wish there were beaches nearby where I could swim and lay out with minimal clothing. It's not NY you know.

So I've decided. I'm always going to have a bikini in my trunk or bag and I'm going to always stop and get wet and swim when the mood takes me. On Friday's I'm going to take Lady Knight and we'll spend the afternoon commute home on the twisties.

This is going to work out ok.

so much going on

I've been composing blog posts in my head this entire past week with no time to sit and write. First week at work is good. I have mixed feelings and I keep wanting to step back into the high pressure silicon valley personality that I so want to get away from. If I wanted to be the high profile silicon valley internet tech exec person, I would have never left the Bay Area. But I don't want to be that person and my new gig is the perfect place to be the new work person I want to be. Do great work, work with great people.

An Angel in Heaven

I get to my new computer and on the monitor is this wonderful sticker. In a red box it says:

"I want heaven"

I think it's great. and I love it being on my monitor. And of course I agree, I want heaven - and even as I'm typing this right now, I know I'm living in heaven right now. Ha ha - I'm an angel in heaven.

So, tomorrow

Today marks the end of my burnout cooloff. I start working at 9am tomorrow. I have mixed emotions. I'm very excited to be working again. I love the work I do and I have high hopes for the company I'm joining. But I'll also miss my free time - going to the beach whenever - shopping in the afternoon - having no commute. However with the job comes structure, which I welcome after months of freedom. The only thing I'm not so excited about is the commute - but I have a feeling that is going to disappear in the next few months. I've been spending a LOT of time in Malibu the past few days and I really feel that I'll end up living in one of the canyons.

dumb dumb

sometimes I feel so dumb. I make a move and only later do I feel the full force of the pain, hurt. why didn't I see that before? why didn't I think about it that way? am I really such a flightly emotional person? what about sobriety? sustainability? consistency? did what I want change? was I faking it?

but then I remember why I act the way I do. I am moved to act. Acquiescening is ACTing. I see something that's a further step in the direction I want to take. I bring pain and destruction in these steps. Because plans and ideas and emotions are destroyed. And in the destruction understanding, enlightenment and seeds of new are sowed.

Awareness, Clarity, Intention, Direction, Focus, Acquiescence.