|
|
|
July 9th, 2009
09:14 pm - Self-indulgent squeeing over rockstardom? Yes please.
[You have been warned.]
It’s like no matter how many times I tell this story, there’s still something to say.
Something that still reeks of sweat from the back room, waiting for a cue.
I still feel that I must capture the height and breadth of the city & its most alarming residents – the rockstars. It’s not like I have a cold ceiling bearing down on me, or livestock in the back yard, or no social contact. There’s some ultimate story I’m trying to find, some all-encompassing epic that speaks to all my sensibilities at once, and I feel that the pivotal scene must take place post-rock-concert in a West Hollywood high rise.
There is heart in idolatry. Rockstar characters write themselves. So ubiquitous, and yet so completely unavailable to everyone.
When I try to explain my lack of a love life, I always think of it in the third person:
“She doesn’t see anyone. She is already taken. Not by a person, but by the sky, by stories, by the weight of the world. She has stars in her eyes, and not of the celestial kind, but the dream-seekers, the rockstars, the prophets, the artists who stay up all night smoking. She needs to get closer to this idea. To the glamour, the pretty, the poetry of it.”
There must be some tragic encounter. Some missed opportunity. Some city lights flickering on some rockstar’s face as he smokes a cigarette. Someone’s mouth dropping open in revelation. Someone’s free ride forgetting to pay. Love. Stiffed love. Set against music, with glittering lights.
The only novel I’ve ever completed, The Last Song,, comes the closest to that I’ve ever achieved. And I keep revising it, keep trying to make it fit that perfect story in my brain. I’ve made mixes and soundtracks and countless attempts at describing its fictional rock band – both in sound (InMe) and story (X Japan). I make comparisons to the main character, Nicky, as if he were really alive. I take all the best parts of all my favorite rockstar stories (Nicky and Richey, Velvet Goldmine) and try to make it into the ULTIMATE ROCKSTAR STORY OF ALL TIME. (Yeah right.)
Honestly, I think the reason I’m so gaga over Glambert right now is because he embodies that poetry. He sort of represents every fictional thing I want to create. I don’t want to meet him or marry him – I want to marry his poetic power. I want to make love to the art he carries around with him, effortlessly. He personnifies my perfect story arc. And for that reason, if The Last Song were ever filmed, I’d want him to play Nicky.
I feel like I’ve said stuff like this before… oh wait, I have.
Current Mood: lovey-dovey
|
July 5th, 2009
05:48 pm - Oh, the epic.
I am massively sore and sick right now. I spent about two hours last night drunkenly chicken-fighting with a bunch of guys in a swimming pool.
It was pretty amazing. Best July 4th ever.
I went to Ron's friend's barbecue, and despite meeting a bunch of new people in a small time frame, I quickly came to adore all of them. They're all actors and makeup artists and theatre geeks. It was like partying with the cast of my old high school plays.
The girls generally stuck to the hot tub. I got thrown in the pool a couple of times and attempting to dunk guys twice as big as me. I failed, but it was still fun.
There was also a climbing wall in the garage. And we did Jager shots.
Of course, the elephant in the room all evening for me was that Megan and Adam are personal friends of the other Adam [Lambert, that is] from his 'Wicked' days. I tried so hard not to bring him up all evening lest I completely make an ass of myself. Luckily, Annie did it for me, and it seems that his friends are just as fangirly as regular fans, which I find hilarious.
Eventually I walked up to Adam [Wylie] and was like, 'I'm embarassed about this, but I am a gargantuan, ridiculously obsessive fan of your friend.'
He just went, 'Cool! Me too!'
I didn't feel so stupid after that. They were really nice about it.
I eventually became very drunk and started soapboxing to people about the nature of the Kinsey scale.
It was an epic night, deserving of today's epic headache.
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/growf/smileys/sad.gif) sore
|
June 29th, 2009
11:49 pm - Christ.
Okay, okay, I get it, I suck, & people hate to think at one in the morning.
You know something? Crowds are alienating even online.
Accepting community is not accepting, as they would say.
No wonder I live in fiction. Fiction is universal.
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/growf/smileys/blah.gif) disappointed
|
June 15th, 2009
08:41 pm - Okay, okay, so I have no life.
But this amuses the fuck out of me.
( HE HELPS ME GET IN TOUCH WITH MY INNER ROCKSTAR GODDAMMIT )
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/growf/smileys/smile.gif) amused
Current Music: lori carson, 'through the cracks'
|
June 9th, 2009
08:55 pm - A little bit indulgent, sure, but completely from the heart.
I've just read Adam Lambert's Rolling Stone article.
It could just be that my fangirl-jizz is on overdrive from the revelation that Adam Lambert had a fucking crush on Kris Allen [OMGCUTECUTE], but...
I can't get over how much I love this man. Almost like I've always loved him.
In a completely platonic way, of course. My love for Adam is nothing like my love for Yoshiki [which remains as the want-to-be-eternally-with-you-forever kind] - it's like my love for a long lost brother. A soulmate I didn’t know I had. It sounds cheesy, but god, I’m sitting here practically tearing up over the fact that a fucking American Idol contestant sees the world in the same way I do.
Aside from the most basic, superficial similarities – a love for Velvet Goldmine, glam rock, and Bret Easton Ellis, and a hatred for Creed and Nickelback – he sees the poetry in existence. He ‘lives the dream,’ as he puts it.
He sees the crazy LA skyline and asks, “Is that because of the smog? Or is it glitter?”
With a wink, of course. Like Oscar Wilde.
He doesn’t understand gender divisions, and calls the world’s obsession with masculinity and femininity 'gross.' [Yes, yes, a million times, yes.]
He emphasizes that the only thing gay people have in common is that they’re gay, so why does everyone lump them together? ‘What about a HUMAN community?’ he says – taking the fucking words right out of my mouth.
He also has a tattoo of the Eye of Ra on his wrist. Anyone who knew me in highschool can understand this connection. [He actually wrote a song once called ‘Oh My Ra’… a phrase I thought I fucking MADE UP when I was fourteen.]
And he can’t say no to booze!
Okay, so maybe that one is superficial.
But god, seriously, how fucking brilliant can one person be? And it’s even not that he’s like ME, particularly – but that he’s so fucking unapologetic, so flirtatious with everything [hide, anyone?], so charismatically curious about the world, so intelligent and yet so completely unafraid to say ‘fuck’ and ‘dick’ when called for…
It’s like I dreamt him into existence. Fiction come to life. What I’ve always worked so hard to portray in my stories. Complete, uninhibited love for androgyny, art, and yourself. It's all I've ever admired - from Daniel to Yoshiki, from hide to Miyavi, from Richey to Nicky.
And yet, Adam is somehow… popular? Mainstream? Loved by millions?
How did this happen?
It’s like the second coming of… hide, or Elvis, or Freddie Mercury, or something. Except this time I’m here to witness it. I’m along for the ride.
Oh, and Rolling Stone? Thank you so, so much for not putting ‘I’m gay’ on the cover. I’m sick of all this ‘he’s made it OFFICIAL’ bullshit. It’s like, what, does he need a fucking STAMP on his forehead? Sexuality has always been fluid; it’s never ‘official’, and the fact that Adam didn’t slap his face on the cover of People magazine with the declaration just makes me love him more.
And is anyone else getting serious Jim Morrison vibes from the Rolling Stone cover? Maybe it’s the green reptile and the ‘lizard’ connection, but even the open button-down shirt is Doors-tastic.
And with that… gosh. When he sings, even all of THAT just falls away.
Current Location: the stratosphere.
Current Mood: emotional
|
June 2nd, 2009
09:37 pm - This might just be the awesomest thing ever.
If you are a heterosexual male and haven’t seen Adam Lambert’s insane mastery of song and dance on American Idol, then you’ve never really had your natural inclinations towards women put to the test. Consider this a warning. Mr. Lambert will groove his way into the deepest, darkest recesses of your being until you look down and are surprised to see that you still have a penis. How exactly does he operate? Nobody knows yet. All I know is that 15 minutes ago I was totally imagining an adult encounter with Lil Rounds and now there is ambiguity in the situation. So now I’m left trying to pick up the pieces of my manhood and figure out what just happened.
Thinking back, I remember that Mr. Lambert did not strike me any differently than, say, Rob Thomas, i.e., a man I can objectively call attractive but who doesn’t move me as much as his model wife. But then came the fabulousness of Adam Lambert: the perfectly asymmetric, jet black, sculpted hair, the form-fitting pants, the stage makeup, the soft, wispy voice suddenly changing in tone and decibels, the exact and sudden movements of his various limbs, and, most of all, the passion. I find myself sucked into his sick little world and I’m angrier than hell. I’m angry because I was just touched by Adam Lambert and I don’t know what this means. Will you someday be able to Google a photo of me on the receiving end of a Lambert stage grind? I would like to say “no” but that would be a bald-faced lie.
So, where do I go from here? I could simply stop watching Idol but that would be running away from the problem. I want to know what buttons he is pushing in me that makes me want to lose weight, buy new clothes, and have really great hygiene. I don’t want him off the show; I actually need to watch more. For this critical introspection of self to take place I need him to continue in the competition. So, please, for the sake of my journey of self-exploration keep voting for Mr. Lambert. My ministry depends on it.
--Fr. Fred Stevens
First Grace United Church of Christ
Oh, and this is just in case you need a visual aid. ;)
Current Mood: amused
|
June 1st, 2009
07:02 pm - New published article about creativity...
 Obsessive Tendencies
How effective is it to tie yourself and your art to a schedule? Not very, for this writer. I do better when listening to my inner obsessive fangirl.
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/1797678/obsessive_tendencies.html
|
May 25th, 2009
08:41 pm - I wonder...
... which lifestyle change has made me feel so awkward and disconnected these past few weeks.
Is it my increasingly mainstream taste? I'm the first to admit that I'm a geek, an outsider; an open-minded, edgy weirdo, but in the past few weeks I've been enjoying Jonas Brothers albums, reading teen fairie smut, and obsessing over a fucking American Idol contestant [damn you and your voice, Adam Lambert]. I used to think I was too cool for shit like that. Unfortunately, most of my friends still are, and I'm really feeling the lack of mutual interest.
Is it still the move? Hell, I moved two months ago; I should have my shit together by now, right? But after living alone for three years, I'm still adjusting to leaving my door open for dogs, asking permission to turn on the television, notifying Jade when I'm having friends over, and waiting for my turn in the shower. I'm an introvert by nature, and it's quite strange to share such things. It makes me want to spend every spare minute in my room with the door closed instead of hanging out with other people.
Is it the recent focusing on modeling as opposed to writing? I will always be a writer first and a model second, but when I'm strapped for rent money, the most practical solution is to go on modelmayhem.com and get paid for three hours of vamping in front of a camera. And money aside, there was a serious sense of sexy self-esteem that I was lacking for so many years, and being a model does so much to remedy that. It's like instant financial therapy. I was recently thinking about writing a short story to go along with every photo shoot I take part in as a way to keep connected to words when I'm focusing so much on the physical. We'll see if that actually happens.
Whatever the cause, I've been moody and disconnected, and I feel like I'm losing people left and right - to physical distance and emotional separation. I hope that isn't the case. I hope when I get over this, whatever it is, I'll be able to step back into my regular social life as if nothing ever happened.
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/growf/smileys/confused.gif) confused
Current Music: adam lambert's version of 'no boundaries'.
|
May 2nd, 2009
11:57 am - Anyone who's reading this knows what day it is.
Have a good one. :)
Current Mood: pink
|
April 15th, 2009
April 3rd, 2009
02:33 pm - Three jobs is two too many.
So I have three jobs. I have no free time. I am aware of this, but I am unsure of how to fix it.
I work at a bookstore. This is my bread & butter, so to speak. No bookstore equals no money, no food, no nothing. Plus, I really enjoy it. I love books, I love the people I work with, and I'm proud to be there.
I work as a photographer's model. Moreso lately, because it pays well, it's relatively quick, and I am short on cash. This is necessary at the moment for financial reasons, and it's also fun. Half a day is like recreation and it makes me more money than three straight days at the bookstore.
I work as a writer, and an editor. I don't get paid for most of the writing, but I don't care, because writing is what I DO. I am a writer. If I gave up writing it would be like giving up the will to live. Editing is a natural outgrowth of my love for words and grammar, and unlike fiction writing, it pays. It's relatively mindless, I like doing it, and I don't have to drive anywhere to work.
I can't quit any of my jobs, but since moving to the valley and holing myself up here, I've lost contact with most of the social world. I'm hoping this will change once I'm fully settled with all my books in place and my new life organized, but at the moment, when I have a free hour I like to just sit in the backyard and watch Fred the giant land tortoise flick flies off his beak.
I suppose a possible solution to this would be to find a rich old man, marry him, and spend my days as a flighty housewife writing poetry. But that... well, nothing really needs to be said about that.
I suppose this is my way of saying that if I seem distant, or if we haven't spoken for longer than usual, or if I haven't called or texted or whatever, I'm not blowing you off. I'm just tired or working all the time, and hopefully I'll fix everything soon.
|
February 22nd, 2009
11:55 pm - Oscars and crap.
How, how to describe the irony that emerges when people who say that Sean Penn only won because of Hollywood's 'gay activist agenda' were probably creaming themselves when Heath Ledger won, even though Heath was pushing this 'gay agenda' just three years ago with his nomination for Brokeback Mountain.
Rock that gay agenda, guys. <3
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/growf/smileys/discontent.gif) cynical
|
February 17th, 2009
06:48 pm - New publications...
The first issue of ASKEW is finally here! I've contributed to several features, and the issue in general is glossy and gorgeous.
Order it here: http://www.askewmagazine.com.
Also, AC recently published my lengthy essay on stereotyping male eating disorders - a topic I can never say enough about, as it's very important to me.
Read the article here: http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1354204/starving_for_success_a_generation_discovers.html?cat=5
And be sure to 'recommend' me.
:D
Current Music: 'savage tattoo' mix cd
|
February 12th, 2009
06:15 pm
Well, it looks like I'll be moving.
Not out of LA, silly people. This city is still my haven of poetry. But my friend owns a gorgeous house close to where I work, with reasonable rent and a veritable bio-committee in the backyard [dogs, pigs, tortoise]. The decor is gorgeous and I can't wait to move in.
Although it seems abrupt - especially since I've vowed I could never live in the valley - I've been considering this over the past month, and after a lot of thinking today, I've realized that it's the kind of transition I need. I've really tried to clean up my life in the past few months - become more like a working writer and less like a lazy college student. Such things are difficult without moving to a new environment. I have an excess of clutter that's built up in the past few years that needs to be purged, and I've come to think of my current apartment as a cave. Not that there's anything wrong with caves - I loved spelunking with my dad growing up - but I don't want to live in one.
Plus, I did a head count, and about 95% of my friends live somewhere in the valley, so I might as well move if I spend most of my time there anyway.
I'm listening to an adamant D'espairsRay album, and Hizumi seems to agree with me.
Current Mood: decisive
|
January 28th, 2009
09:13 pm - I am geeking out hardcore.
He is mine... ALL MINE.
Yay!
I think I'll add Rorschach to my list of 'fictional characters I'd like to fuck' - though he'd have to keep his mask on.
I also snatched the new issue of Wizard with him on the cover, Epilogue #3 and 4, Umbrella Academy #3, and Wormwood: Down the Pub. I almost picked up Dead Space as well, but my wallet was hurting. Comics own me.
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/growf/smileys/geeky.gif) geeky
|
January 26th, 2009
08:40 pm - A lesson well learned...
This blog might seem a little bit self-indulgent, but it's something I feel I need to talk about.
I've been on psychiatric meds since college. Various situational and seasonal things have made them necessary. When I was a freshman I started getting panic attacks and staying indoors; when I was a junior I stopped eating and starting cutting myself with pocket knives; when I moved home for a year I developed sinus issues that made me want to sleep all the time.
I take two antidepressants. They do produce rather unfortunate side effects - I feel nauseated often, especially after eating, and it's incredibly hard for me [though not impossible] to have an orgasm. Sucks, right?
So recently, with things going so well and my moods on an upswing, I told my doctor I wanted to experiment with lowering my dosage [this after having been on the same dose for about two years]. So we did, and about a week ago I cut out most of the fluoxetine.
I must have underestimated my dependency. I went steadily downhill all weekend, but I attributed it to stress and emotional attachments. Then yesterday I hit freakout mode. I couldn't eat anything and felt like I had a mild version of the flu. I called out of work. I was convinced that everyone I loved or cared about was ignoring me for whatever reason. I spent the day curling up into little balls and crying, then attempting to sleep, then waking up and doing it over again. Once when I woke up I was absolutely terrified that I was going to die. Literally. I even forced down a bowl of cereal to make certain I didn't starve to death. Now it seems stupid, but if you asked me then, I would have said I'm dying. I'm going to die.
So I called my doctor and my parents several times and I took an extra dose of meds this morning. I went to work still feeling like death, and for the first half of my shift I had to take a break every ten minutes to sit down and collect myself. I must have been driving my managers crazy. I still couldn't eat anything.
Then, about halfway through my shift, the extra meds kicked in, and I could feel myself calming down. I stopped sweating and crying and was actually able to hold decent conversations. I could feel my sense of logic coming back. No more death.
I should probably mention that psychological illness runs in my family. My aunt has suffered from hallucinations and schizophrenia since she was a teenager, and it's taken her years to find the right meds.
I also had a younger sister growing up. She killed herself six years ago. Bipolar disorder of the extreme kind. By the end of it, she was undeniably crazy. I witnessed it firsthand. She got lost in brain fogs, shaved her head into mohawks, overdosed on drugs, lied compulsively. When I moved to LA, she called me up in a manic phase convinced she had discovered the secret to world happiness. Two weeks later she jumped off a building. I wasn't shocked. For me it had been a long haul, a slow suicide, a deterioration of a personality like a picket fence losing its paint.
When I think about what happened to her, and when I think about how I wanted to die yesterday, I'm reminded of why I like to keep myself stable, why I need to feel sane regardless of crappy side effects. I'd rather suffer from an impeded sex drive than put my parents through suicide again.
And as for the sex, well, I'm sure there's a women's version of viagra or something.
This is a poem I wrote the day my sister died. I've never posted or submitted it anywhere because it never felt quite like my style. So I'll just put it in this blog and let it be what it is.
So my sister’s dead. Los Angeles knows.
The sky is soaked through with rain.
Clouds cluster together like it’s all a secret:
It doesn’t really rain here, does it?
Suicides are sneaky, and so is the rain.
They don’t say a word, and the ground wakes up wet.
I must have missed when
I caught myself naked in highschool;
I must not have been looking when demons walked by
and confirmed this a dream.
I should have known all along.
I’ve drunk too much and slept too long.
And now these things that don’t belong:
puddles in the desert, this death.
It’s all wrong.
It’s confused by itself, confounded by circumstance,
shivering, like this city, that doesn’t know what to do with the rain.
It stops swaggering and begins to shake,
buildings bunched against the wind, vulnerable and unsure,
huddled together like children left behind.
Current Music: martin page, 'song for ruth'
|
January 15th, 2009
09:35 pm - Porn & punk rock paradise.
I've said it before and I'll say it again - people in porn are the most awesome individuals I have ever met. I've never encountered a snobbish or inconsiderate porn star. Everyone is gracious, generous, complimentary, and hilarious. Years ago I'm not sure I would have expected this from people who fuck for a living.
This year's AVN journey was especially rewarding. We attended the awards ceremony for the first time and gave out at least five copies of Body Shots, including one to Courtney Cummz, who wants a comic cameo appearance in the future. Score!
My French skills were also put to good use, as we stayed two nights at the Paris hotel, and the first porn star we met at Evil Angel was French with limited English skills. She just about shit a brick when I started speaking French to her. Score again.
Since the ratio of men to women at the convention was extremely lopsided as usual, whenever me or Jenn had our photo taken with a porn star, flashes went off like red carpet paparazzi. A few professional photographers asked to get photos of us. Talk about an ego boost.
We headed back to the hotel for drinks with Mike, an old friend, as well as Steve and Holly #2, who also happened to be in town. We were serviced by a very entertaining bartender. I gave him a huge tip.
Jenn and I were almost late for the awards, but they began late as expected, and we even had time to get drinks. Going into the auditorium was a bit intimidiating, as everyone at Mandelay Bay had gathered into a long line for the express purpose of gaping at the award guests. It's a good think we looked hot...
Highlights of the show for me: Evan Stone winning Best Actor for Pirates II [hell yeah!], Belladonna and Jesse Jane winning for best girl-girl scene [fucking epic], and Stoya nabbing Best New Starlet. Irreverence was everywhere. Jenna Haze, upon winning Performer of the Year: 'I love fucking for you people!!'
Parties, bumming drinks from strangers, & room service tuna melts at one in the morning? Total win.
Just two nights after our return from Vegas, we were fortunate enough to attend the Living Dead Lights show at the Troubador. I cannot say enough positive things about this band. I met Taka when he inked my fourth tattoo, and they impressed me enough at the kidneythieves show to warrant my buying their album and writing a feature for Askew magazine. This show was the best of the lot I've seen. There was a nice crowd, including some gaping PR people, and some friends of mine showed up as well. LDL's music brings out something raw and unbridled in me. It's fucking awesome.
They are also just wonderful individuals. Never standoff-ish or 'too cool' for the likes of me. I plan to utilize every ounce of media influence I have to make them famous. I love you guys!
I had a dream the night we got back from Vegas that I finally gave into Robby D's cajoling and agreed to be DP's next contract star. I can't see that happening in real life, but it's cool to know that the option is there should I ever get fired from Barnes & Noble.
Current Music: living dead lights, 'to all the youth'
|
January 2nd, 2009
07:29 pm - Dating ramble.
I HAVE TO STOP GOING OUT WITH FAMOUS PEOPLE.
What is wrong with me.
So much emotional stress. They're never around, they have tons of fangirls, they might just be using me as temporary amusement between projects...
Then I get asked to dinner and say yes anyway. Because I am a sucker.
And I wonder why I have romantic problems. Crikey.
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/growf/smileys/worried.gif) anxious
|
December 28th, 2008
10:44 pm - Gods on H/City Lover reviewed in Barbaric Yawp!
Yes, ladies and gents, in the winter 2008 issue of Barbaric Yawp magazine, which is a staple in the small press world, my & Jordan's little labour of love has appeared at the end of John Berbrich's quarterly column, 'Book Beat'.
The review is generally positive: 'Peters' junkies look the part, angular and hungry. And Interlandi captures in words the hideous wax and wane of the junkie's existence.' He also seemed to enjoy City Lover: 'By the end of the story, she has become transformed into City Lover, sexy and licentious, aroused by pavement and back alleys, streetlights and skyscrapers.'
Get a copy of Barbaric Yawp here: http://www.boneworldpublishing.com.
Current Music: annie lennox
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
morganlight's journal
![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/growf/smileys/thoughtful.gif){kind=small}
thoughtful