MOOD: WOWBEENS

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CURRENT PLAYLIST
Beastie Boyz: Intergalactic (Yellus Remake)
Justice: DVNO (LA Riots Remix)
Beck: Modern Guilt
Radiohead: Nude (Holy Fuck Remix)
LetroN: Don't Need No Man

The last one is like Uffie times two. I listen because it makes me feel like one of those girls that call themselves independent women when they should really just call themselves sluts.


Today I jumped around with my baby sister while listening to MSTRKRFT's remix of Justice's D.A.N.C.E
She's 6. I'm trying to foster a fondness for electro in her while she's young. Muahaha.


I haven't updated in a while, have I? Welllll, since the last post.
Oh shit I met up with Domo. That was fun. She biked, I scootered, and what do you get when you mix those elements with HEAT and a couple issues of Interview? Something pretty chill, I suppose; something pretty dazzle dazzle. It was nice to be able to hang with her before she heads up to SanFran with flowers in her hair.
And then it was funny because the day after I saw her at the same place while with Ms. Chen.


Went to LAGUNA. Waves roll. So do avocado and shrimp vinaigrette. And of course, being the femme fatales that we are, and Fashion Island being on the way back, we stopped by there, and I f-f-finally got my Obama progress t-shirt, which I will wear as often as possible just to make the thirty bucks worth it. But yes, that day was fun, full of American mass consumerism and salt water.




So, that was Friday (?). Then let's skip to Sunday. I painted for five hours. Straight. It was one of those unstoppable, inevitable periods of overworking and productivity. I still didn't paint anything I would be proud of, however. I don't like how sporadic my creative ethic is, how I'll find myself in lulls of weeks during which I don't even want to look at my sketchpad/paintbrushes, and then during a period of 1-3 three days, I won't be able to do anything else BUT paint and draw. It bothers me that it's so inconsistent.
The same thing goes like flows like blows for my writing.
And then... after getting my hands dirty I grabbed my jeans and my spankin' black leather jacket and went out with Rickckckckckckck. Which resulted in going to McClain's and biting. And talking about deep dark secrets like shhhGOD. After this, what was after this: for some reason which I still don't remember, he had to take Al to Riverside. So we did. And Selfridge played tag-along. It wasn't necessarily the greatest car ride. And Rickckckckck looked half perturbed half indignant the entire way through.
But after we went back to his house Jeff's house and he looked happy again. We moved around underneath black lights, I tried to read a play but failed after my eyes felt fried, and Jeff gave his whole-hearted attention to the impossible quiz, which... I confess I will never find amusement in. I took a 2minute shower and stole Rickckck's Christmas boxers. I was about to tackle Jeff but he held off on the rum, thus excusing him from my great affinity for manhandling semi-innocents. The rum's gone?

Sweet goodbyes.
Frustration.

Monday was shit in a hole and more painting and dealing with insufferably judgmental schoolmates that I can not believe are the same age as me. I beg for patience and find none. How am I supposed to smile, then?





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