Looking Glass

Some days-
Some days I am
Sick of myself,
Sick to Death, of the
Look on my face, the
Look in my eye. Of the
Look of myself.

Some days I am sick to death of looking at myself.

So I sit away from mirrors and I
Bleach my hair, and I
Bleach my bones, and I
Bleach my soul
Blonde.
Beautiful, Brave,
Bimbo..
and I contemplate my inner
bitch, Bitch,
BITCH.

Vitamin D
Deficient.
Darling, Dangerous,
Drunk..
Ding Dong the
Bitch, Bitch, Bitch, is
Dead.

Am I
Hungry?
Horny?
High?
Am I
Lonesome tonight..?
Am I
La-La- La,
Lame.
Lost, Lovely..
Lulu De Luna.
Pray, Pray
PRAYING for Summer Somedays, when I am not so
sick, Sick,
SICK! of my
Self.

The Weight of Diamonds

Now she can wear her pretty shiny things and
Dance around her life like
the celebrity of her illusions.

Princess Pretend,
she is weighted with diamonds and heavy hands
and a heavy heart.

Her sanity shaken,
Faith to the wind,
she is bending, she is breaking,
she has been forsaken
Under the weight of diamonds.

Rings of shackles, links of chain
Bound in her glitter dream game
A slave to the wait, and the wake, and
The weight of diamonds.

Ruin, Rinse, Repeat...

I'm mad at you!
Mad, crazy, mad mad mad
at you and you
have no idea.

Well neither did I til just a little while ago,
pondering my shiny, shiny, love and I thought of you.
Somebody beat you to the punch line, pal.
Way to be asleep at the wheel.

Apparently I went from being a dope-junkie to a love-junkie.
Love, love, love, why doesn't anybody love, love, me?
Why don't I love anybody else?

How long do you stand around on tip-toe corners
waiting for the return of your last lost chance?
Your lost last chance..
Lost lost love at last.

How long before hopeful waiting becomes
timid holding back becomes
a bold excuse not to move on.
Excused from the scary and unknown.
Excuses for the trouble and turmoil in your soul.

So quickly I run from one great mistake to the next,
full of fear and expectations.
Run, Lulu, Run.

Ghost Limb and Other Short-Comings

In the wake of Ghost-Limb heart ache, I decide to write,
Re-write and right all my wrongs.

All eyeliner and fault, I am.
Cigarette smoking skinny jeans and trendy heart strings.
Ghost Limb, I neglected you.

Late last night I thought I heard you whistling in the dark for our dog.
You've been gone so long, and only just yesterday,
but I can still feel you hanging limp at my side.

Was it I who let you atrophy and rot-
Or were you a victim of poor circulation,
cutting yourself off before I did..?

Fault is so petty in the face of amputation.

Mutilated little heart asked me,
"Am I broken?".
Yes, little heart, you are.
Talk about a Revelation.

If I coulda, shoulda, woulda, done it different
would it have made a difference-
Or would you still be gone, Ghost Limb?

I keep seeing you out there on the streets of Manhattan-
Just an arm in lumberjack plaid shirt-sleeves
floating through the crowd,
like maybe it doesn't know it's been removed..

Postmortem amnesia;
it's a blessing not to remember that you died.
I wish I could forget.

TRAVEL AND SEX

Travel makes me horny..
I like the mystery of horizons unknown.

I listen to jazz and smoke lots of reefer.
I am very introspective.
I am very deep.
I am very boho chic.

I think heavy thoughts while washing my hair
singing along to the radio
eyes closed,
fogging up the mirror.

And I roll my own cigarettes these days,
Like back when I was smoking Camels, Unfiltered, and
Drinking my coffee black black black, and dating a
Masochistic Sadist with a penchant for Domination,
who was old enough to be my father..

He still sends me emails once in a while
That I don't answer.

I dream of Thai food and Starbucks coffee and
shiny new shoes,
Boxter convertibles and small islands who's names I cannot pronounce.
Giant sunglasses and condensation on my umbrella'd drink.
Painted toenails.
Strangers in strange lands behind velvet ropes.

Travel.
Sex.
Either is nice.
Both is better.

Dreams Are Tedious, I know...

I dreamt we got married last night
On a slow boat to China.
Drifting lazily down the French Riviera
In a Venetian gondola.

It was all inky twilight and Christmas tree light stars
twinkling through cotton candy clouds.

A cranky Victrola somewhere wailed out Edith Piaf singing La Vie en Rose,
complete with hissing and popping for vintage effect..

We ate Neapolitan petifors and drank Veuve Clicquot
while the breeze blew sweetly through my hair.

Along the banks, the crowds threw yellow rose petals into the current
and cheered warmly in foreign tongues I could not understand,
but they were smiling.

We laughed in low tones and lounged, heads in laps, staring up at the rice paper moon..

ASTRO-ODE;

A bit early in the season for a twelve dollar
beer and fried starch products.
Albino pigeon amongst the gulls-

They are DEMOLISHING childhood as we know it.

Astro Land shadow. How I miss your neon buzz.
Replaced by the moaning of jackhammer death.

BoardWalk Away from the destruction.

Junk Yard Dog- you don’t belong here..
Among these relics of America.
Once Upon A Time,
Before they tore out your guts and laid them in blue dumpsters.
Before they dared to dream you better.

“Crypto-Fascists!”, I cry!
That sounds better than,
“Fucking Commies! Stop destroying my youth!”

The smell of summer beach still faint in dirty hepatitis winter bathroom stalls
without locks or toilet paper.
Why did they leave us these pockmarked slabs of concrete where
Americana past once reigned, bright and luminous against twilight.
Cotton candy teddy bear dreams of long ago.

You can leave the Wonder Wheel up.
You can spare the Cyclone.
But I know. You’re trying to kill us.

Drive the thrill junkies out to Play Land.
Let them eat fried dough heart attacks
beneath the empty eyes of the Dragon Coaster.

I bought my ticket. Where’s my ride?

Gutted haunted house. Ghosts in the sand.
Don’t let your dog crap on the shores of Young Americas future,
Sallow face haunting rocky sidewalks.
Hypodermic Haven for the lost neo-post-pre-apocalyptic
Sword Swallowers.

SHOW ME SERPENTINA IN THE FLESH!
O Human Blockhead! How I want to buy your tee shirt!
Flip Flop Panama Jack Pilgrims
to a wholly, holy Mecca.

Flock of oversized sunglasses perch before
grease painted signs of mystery and promise.
They shut down our Museum.
They took away our Merry-Go-Round
and wrapped the pink elephants in body bags, my love,
and started drilling.

STORE FOR LEASE, signs shout
SOULS FOR SALE.
GET YOUR LAST STOP SECOND CHANCE SOUVENIRS HERE!
SHAKE SHACK SHIMMY, BEACH BLANKET BINGO!!

It’s too cold to swim, but the local Polar Bears are here.
Drinking beer and eating hot dogs.
I suppose global warming has forced them further than we’d thought..
Things are changing.

We walk, gathering sweet simple sand in our winter boots.
All around us, they are caging up our dearest innocence
and hauling it all away.
Bulldozer among my giant plastic bumble bees..
A thorn amongst my wilting roses.

Prest-o-Change-o, automatic illusion.
They’ll steal this out from under us and give us houses we can’t afford to live in
with ugly door men and pretentious decor.
Just you watch.

And, O, Fortuna! They’ve torn down the walls to your parlor!
And your harlot wall paper is showing!
Where is your crystal ball now?
We should have seen this coming.

Turn a blind eye to the sun set,
We walk into the wind.
Even the cheese on your pizza would curl up and blow away
in this cold embrace of abandonment.
At the end of the line.
Out here on the edge of the universe.
Amidst the mechanical carnage falling all around us.
In a sea of modern decay.

Compelled by this sense of loss
we rush the gift shop and gobble up
florescent knick knacks and
brightly colored bikini madness.
Touch everything fingertips spit pennies from our pockets
to buy back a piece of our grace from corporate america take over chaos.

Fall away candy cane striped banners of hope,
and bold black brush stroked letters on white washed walls.
Melting soft serve ice cream memories
tossed into rubbish bins with the rest of our self respect.

Cellphone snapshots don’t do the day justice.
The ride home bops to i-pod tunes of summer rhythms.
I dream of youth. And love. And loss.
Salvation seems far away.

Intro to Lala

25 Things You Don't Know, Or You Wish You'd Forgotten About Me...

1. I haven't filled out one of these ridiculous things since I was in the 8th grade, swear to God, and I can't believe they still float through cyber space being filled out by people with too much time on their hands (obviously much like you and I)..

2. I was at work while I did most of this, and thusly being paid...which made it more fun.

3. I have many secrets. Some of them are mine, some of them are yours...Some I will reveal when the time is right, some I will reveal when the time is wrong. Some I will never reveal and I will die with them on my soul like dark little tear stains on silk. You wouldn't believe most of them anyway, as they are all stranger than fiction.

4. I have moved around a lot. When I was a child it was due to my parents relocating or divorcing, but as I grew up it just became a great way to indulge my escapist nature. When in doubt, move and change your phone number. Starting fresh is a wonderful thing- however, where ever you go, there you are. And that's what catches up with you inevitably.

5. I have wanted to be an actress for as long as I am capable of remembering and it seems it is my destiny as I have no real skills other than being dangerously charming, a fantastic bullshit artist, and a master of illusion. These traits are phenomenally useful if you want to be a secretary as well...barf.

6. I developed a "serious" drug problem (as opposed to my usual habits..) in the winter of 2003 and into the spring of 2004 which caused me to drop out of college and reevaluate my life. It was a personal meltdown that had been in the making for most of my teen aged existence. I have never returned to college, but recently I've been kicking around the idea of taking Green Medicine classes and becoming an herbalist. Stranger things have happened.

7. Sometimes, when I drink too much, and the moon is against me, I get vicious and I cackle like Satan. Seriously, if any of you got to witness some of my mothers finer moments in alcoholism land, you know EXACTLY the hideous laugh I am talking about. This trait inspires me to drink less... I am not always successful. But I try.

8. Since I just spoke of her, I'll continue here and say that everyday I find I grow more and more like my mother. Some people hate their mothers. Some people hate becoming like their mothers. I've even known some people who hated my mother. But fuck them, I love my mom. I think she's hot shit and I am having a wildly fantastic time flashing our smile and laughing our laugh.

9. I may be a little self centered- BUT- I'm in my 20's and I figure that's how it should be. I also think maybe if everyone was a little more self centered we might be able to take care of ourselves and we wouldn't be a bunch of whiny co-dependents in search of that elusive "something" to make us feel whole. I am a firm believer that if you feel lacking, search yourself, not the world around you Dorothy Gale.....now if only I could take my own advice.

10. I am a sexual deviant. Surprise surprise. I have done things that, A. You can only imagine in your wildest, darkest and most lecherous dreams, and B. Should I ever become truly tabloid famous, I will only be able to explain away those photos with a devilish grin and a coy shrug of the shoulders.

11. I can wiggle both my ears, at the same time or individually.

12. Someday when I am old and decaying I will move to Paris and throw things off my balcony at young lovers in the streets while cursing loudly, drinking red wine, smoking unfiltered cigarettes like a fucking chimney, and laughing like Satan. This will make me very happy.

13. If you come to New York City, please be sure of where you are going and how to get there before you leave your hotel. I hate nothing more than people who stop in groups in the middle of the bloody sidewalk to get their bearings. MOVE THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY. Do I come to your town and drive on your roads and just stop my car in the middle of traffic while I check my fucking GPS?! NO!!! So there you go. And P.S. Stop staring up at the sky because it makes you an easy mark for pick-pockets and thieves and it makes me want to steal your wallet just to make my fucking point.

14. I curse. Loudly and frequently. I think that colorful language can really make a point when used well.

15. I find Andy Warhol and his ability to emotionally disconnect from people absolutely amazing and worth trying to emulate in the appropriate situations. Sometimes there's no room for hugs and feelings and the I'm-Okay-You're-Okay-Simpering-Sissy-Bullshit.

16. If I seem like a real cunt, it's only because I am guarding my soft, scared, delicate and needy little underbelly. Yes I have one. I just won't let you get close enough to see it.

17. It is a great dream of mine to someday have the funds to host a party and invite everyone I have ever known. I think it would be tons of fun and it would give me chance to catch up with people I haven't seen or spoken to in a very very long time. Also it might give my life some type of greater meaning to see all the people who I have touched, or who have touched me - yes, touched, in a figurative or literal sense- and to have the opportunity to thank them for putting up with my bullshit and loving me for the train wreck that I am.

18. If I were going to change my name, I'd be Deacon Lyle. I think it suits me.

19. I believe giant oversized sunglasses are for everyone.

20. If I saved all the money I spent on cigarettes, whiskey and shoes, by now I'd probably have enough money to throw that party I was talking about in #17.

21. I believe Laughter is our only defense against the Dark Forces of the Universe.

22. I've learned that you can do anything you set your mind to. Figuring out what you want to do is the hard part.

23. The best advice I may ever receive, or pass on, in my life is to "Consistently desire transformation". Thank you Michael Chekhov.

24. The best compliment I ever got was either from John Popper of Blues Traveler who signed a harmonica for me that reads "You Are Beauty", or when Jon Stemmler (who was just a good looking bastard) told me I was "A woman of the century, and that is for real". Word.

25. My role model growing up was, and still is, Jessica Rabbit.