Ed and I met at Boston College about three years ago. He and I had a film class together and we never really noticed one another at all. Then about a six months later he hired me to work as a fundraiser at the Boston College Fund. It was right before my summer interning in Los Angeles, and as an LA native, Ed felt it necessary to make sure that I was taken care of once I came out here. That summer was the first few months of what grew into a real friendship, the kind that I hope to have for the rest of my life.
When I moved back out here after graduation, Ed, who is a year older than me, was working in Chicago and Canada for the same company we worked for in college. The hours were long and the work was grueling yet unfulfilling and so Ed headed back to Los Angeles to start a new life. That's when we reconnected and we've been inseparable ever since.
I don't know what I would have done in this city without Ed. He's been there with me through endless piles of drama and despair. We've watched one another change and develop as people and taken each change in stride, something that I have found to be rare in friendships. I love that we can talk about anything, free of judgment. In fact, so free of judgment that I tell him everything with enthusiasm. I know that even if he doesn't understand, he will always appreciate my take on a situation because of our mutual respect for each other's perspective. He is one of the people I can trust to make a snap judgment. His intuition is one that I trust as strongly as my own. In the cases I have questioned his opinion, he has proven to be right in one way or another. That's a person I can really get behind.
Our friendship isn't always perfect, but because we love and trust each other so much, we can take criticism from each other knowing that it's only being given as a means of personal betterment. I feel lucky to have such an amazing person care about me so much and that I have the ability to see how rare a person of his character is... He's something worth holding on to, and I hope that everyone I know has someone in their life that makes them feel that way.
Don't you hate how Google chat forces you to think of people you try and go days and weeks without thinking of just because you're checking your gosh darn email?
You know what I mean... You're checking your email and to the left of the screen pops up the name of a former friend or lover that you have managed to remove from your life in almost every capacity? It's like Google's inadvertent way of reminding you that you are a failure when it comes to human relationships.
I know there are options to remove G-Chat from your email screen, but I feel like that's admitting you've fucked up with many of your email contacts and that's just too much for me to give in to. I've been a silent sufferer up until this point and I will continue to put myself in this situation as a lesson to treat people better, especially those who have G-Mail accounts.
I've been reading James Frey's A Million Little Pieces this week and I feel compelled to write about it.
I obviously heard of this book quite some time ago, as it's been in the news for a while. I'd seen it sitting at Boarders on one of my many book binges and hadn't been compelled to buy it. Recently I saw a copy of it for fifty cents at Out of the Closet and decided to pick it up despite the fact I didn't plan on reading it any time soon. The other day I was sitting around my place lecturing myself on getting my life back together and I figured maybe if I started reading more again things would start falling into place. I don't understand my logic either, perhaps something about bettering my character through education, but I don't know for sure.
The big controversy surrounding this book has to do with the fact that Frey shopped it and sold it as a memoir, but it turned out to be a work of fiction. The person who stirred up most of this drama was Miss. Book Club herself, Oprah Winfrey. I have to say, I usually agree with my girl Oprah, but this time I'm simply not with her. She's pissed because she got tricked. She's mad because she was moved by what she thought was a personal account and it turned out to be mostly made up. Get over yourself, Oprah. It's a fucking great book... Incredibly moving and incredibly well written. The style of the book would annoy me if it wasn't so spot-on, if the rambles didn't sound like real thoughts ripped out of the head of the person next to you on the subway.
What I love about this book is what I love about Catcher in the Rye... the story itself is so specific that it's not really relatable for the average person, but the emotions are conveyed in such a clear and honest way that you may as well be reading about yourself at times. The feelings of guilt, remorse, self hatred and hopefulness are feelings we have all felt in some capacity and to read these words on paper make you feel triumphantly human. You know, all "Oh yeah! It's totally normal to feel that way! I win!"
Highly recommended.
moist party - m4w (San Gabriel) 21yr
I like to cook my Jewish specialty, arm kabob. If you are the right woman, bring some clorox and a snake skinned belt! Then I show how Phoc gets down.
I'll spread Resolve on your carpet and Phoc will clean it up, Phoc style. Satisfaction guarantee or your MONEY BACK!
I recently cleaned house to make sure it clean. Found a little itsy bitsy spider and played with it. It didn't like me prodding, so it bite me. I show you what it did to my shorthand. I need help to fix it. Phoc style!
Is this just crazy talk, or is he getting at something?
There are many things that I write about in this blog that boarder on "too personal" for me... my man troubles, for one. But there are many many things I won't even touch upon because they are so meaningful or evoke so much emotion that I feel if I were to somehow try and explain these feelings into words that they would be cheapened. I don't write about my last relationship, I don't write about my father and I don't write about Girl Talk.
I have an obsession with Girl Talk that dates back to last Winter. Most people would think I'm just a fan, but his music has influenced me in so many ways that I attribute finding his last record to finding my true self. I came alive when I heard Night Ripper for the first time in a way I hadn't felt alive in years. It was like the first time I read Catcher in the Rye or the first time I really truly felt like I was in love.
Last night I had the opportunity to interview him before his shows at the Echo, both of which I attended with the enthusiasm of a fourteen year old girl at a circa 1999 NSync Show. My universe came together last night. My experience in LA seemed to be capped off. I remember thinking several times throughout the day that I hoped I would die immediately after the shows because I really feel like I've finished up what I needed to do here on Earth.
What I love about Girl Talk (aka Gregg Gillis) is his pure love of music, his desire to do nothing more than to just share his gift with others. He seems not to seek fame, just good times and good people to share them with, that's all. He is a true genius, an artist and a REAL PERSON. He could sit next to you on a plane, he could let you cut him in line at the grocery store, he could ask to use the dryer after you at the landromat, but he brings the mother fucking noise every single night all over the world. How amazing.
I'll never be able to truly explain the way I feel about his music, and I can't even really try much more than I just have. It makes me sick to think about the fact that I've starred my idol in the eye. Most people live their whole lives wondering if they will ever meet the person who moves them in the way he moves me... and I haven't just met him, but he knows my name, he knows my face, he remembered our past introductions. It's not a case of being star struck... I think some people feel this way about the Pope. It was a confirmation of my belief system and the way I live my life.
My life has been changed forever.
I was whining about Shadow Scene recently... About how I can never have a decent picture taken by this girl. Well, Andy and I talked to her about it and the whole thing was my fault. Supposedly I cower when the camera comes around, making me look like a fat, deformed freak. There are some decent (DECENT) pictures of me from that night...
One note about the Shadow Scene chick: I think I want to be her friend. I read her bio on her site... and she's from MAINE! I love my fellow New Englanders. She went to college in Boston! That's where I'm from! She has cool hair! We both observe life for a living! Those are tons of good reasons to befriend a chick.
My Coffee Bean went from playing Paul Simon's Graceland on repeat to some Train album. I'm actually upset that I can identify the band who plays this horrible music.
Graceland has been my favorite album since I was two years old. My mom took me to see Simon on this album's tour. I can remember bopping on the shoulders of a family friend to the songs that had become familiar to me on rides to school and weekends in the sunny backyard. Each song stirs my soul and brings me back to a happier time in my life.
I can't say the same for Train. I just can't.
Boys in Los Angeles suck. Let me break it down for you....
Most of the dudes I meet out at night fall under the category of "Souless Hollywood Douchebags". There's this thing that happens to you when you live in this city for a prolonged period of time. Most people think that it only applies to industry types, but it's spread to the masses. What happens is this: you arrive in LA with a smile on your face and a song in your heart. You are approachable and kind. Then you meet enough people like the person you will eventually turn into and you trade your soul away because it's easier than trying to make it as yourself. After awhile, you will lie to your friends to smooth things over, cheat on your girlfriend and manage to muster up a list of reasons it was justifiable and stab your co-workers in the back to get ahead. This is the Los Angeles way of life, and this is what will happen to you if you allow it.
What is talking to a person like this in a bar like? Mind numbing. They want to talk about work and only work, which is fine... but they've somehow convinced themselves that they are important enough to be elusive when discussing whatever it is they do. Example:
Me: What do you do for a living?
Him: I direct.
Me: Films?
Him: Yes.
Me: Cool. I studied film in college. What kind of movies do you make?
Him: Small ones. Art movies.
Me: Totally.
Him: I don't really like to talk about what I do.
Me: OK, so what do you do for fun?
Him: Work.
Is that my cue to suck your dick in the bathroom? I don't get it. If you were someone reasonably important, I can understand a stand-offish attitude about work, but "small art movie director" doesn't exactly put dollar signs in my eyes and send my heart racing. So why the 'tude? Because after living like a Souless Hollywood Douchebag for several years, you have a sense of self-importance that forbids you to relate to other human beings, even the ones you are trying to get into bed.
Obviously these guys aren't the only problem. There are law school students who have yet to feel the burn of the real world, the boys who live off their parents and think I'm too jaded, the guys who are clearly too intelligent and successful to speak to the girl who pounded three cans of beer in the car before she even stepped foot in the bar (that'd be me). Then there are the scenesters that can't see past my side part and Louis bag, the hipsters that are so broke and unmotivated that their issues would become mine, the gay boys who are so beautiful it's unfair, the unemployed actors who try desperately to convince you that they are decent people, and the has-beens who try and convince you they used to be someone. You can't mention any of these people without noting the boys who are new in town and still think LA is the shit, the Cholos whose pick-up lines sound like threats, the post-grads who still have Frat boy mentality... Los Angeles can feel like a pretty sad and desperate place when you are constantly confronted by people who are impossible to respect.
Ed and I have been talking recently about feelings of rejection, how bad it feels when you want someone who doesn't want you back. It's all very middle school. If there was a girl who I wanted to be friends with and she didn't like me I'd be over it, so why can't I think about guys that way?
I went on a date recently with a guy I met at an event I went to for work. He was all rugged and sexy... He pulled up to meet me on a motorcycle. He was dirty in the perfect way-- like he hadn't showered in a hot minute, but you wouldn't need a tetanus shot if you were to make out with him. I like my man to look and smell like he's been building houses all day, you know? It was kind of perfect, minus the fact that he clearly was not into me.
I will be the first to admit I sabotage myself on a regular basis when it comes to dudes. When I woke up that day and invited him out for coffee with me, I actually thought to myself, "dont go out of your way to look decent for this guy, because if he can't handle how you throw yourself together, then he can't deal with you, period." Fucked up, right? Anyway... I could tell he didn't think I was as cute as he remembered and I thought to myself "OK, good. You've proven this dude can't hack it. Fuck him...", but now I can't help but wonder what would have happened had I put a moment of effort into my appearance. I guess as a bottom line, I don't care. I was able to discern from a phone convo he had in front of me that he is probably a drug dealer. Not even a weed dealer... it sounded like perhaps he was ordering multiple bricks of something, and things that come in bricks are usually pretty serious. Maybe it was weed, but usually if you want weed you're just all "Hey, I want some weed" and don't try and speak in some broke down code.
How did I get into all of that? When I sat down to write, I was planning on this being somewhat of a rant about these two ridiculously hot and intelligent seeming dudes who were sitting next to me at Snake Pit last night but never talked to me. Ed and I were sitting there thinking "Oooo, boyfriends!" but their prerogative clearly involved drinking Miller Lights and staring at each others faces. Whatever, it probably wouldn't work. I can't hang with Miller Light boys, anyway.
I spent yesterday morning working on the set of a porn movie. I was filming/interviewing for Fleshbot.com, a porn site that falls under Gawker.
I don't quite know what it was that I was expecting, probably drugs and sluts and loose morals and trashy people... but honestly? It was really fun. Everyone was super nice-- the ladies were sweet as pie and the men were quiet and approachable. The atmosphere on the set was great. Everyone was there to laugh and have a good time and really didn't mind being there. I ask you to go find me an office somewhere where all the employees are genuinely happy to be there and excited to get work done.
It was surprisingly not embarrassing or awkward at all. It didn't matter to me that I had to watch two girls suck another girls nipples for an extended period of time. It was so clearly fake that there was nothing to be uncomfortable about... they just as easily could have been playing tennis. Seriously! I know that it's an unbelievable thought, but their actions were completely normal seeming.
I know all of this might sound like I have some strange morals or something and believe me, I never thought that I'd be watching some nice Asian girls crawl around naked while draped in plastic beads, but now I truly believe that there's nothing wrong with what these people do. I think if more people had the chance to visit a set, the porn world would make a lot more sense to everyone and not be such an enigma.
Here's a photograph to commemorate:
