No Filter

Seven months into my new found sobriety, I find myself desperately, girly-ley (?), disgustingly desirous of falling in love and wanting just as much the reciprocal. I don't think I've ever been that unabashed in my intentions before in my entire adult life. And yet, even with all of my fresh, non-alcohol soaked emotion just ready to be smothered all over some poor, unlucky soul, I was totally and completely petrified of getting back in it all. When I was using, I had that false confidence that one often finds at the bottom of a bottle (booze, pills, whatever) and everything came easily to me. So this whole dating sober thing was a new bag and I didn't know what to do with it. What about the pre-gaming before the date? No shot before leaving the house? No glass of wine (or five) with dinner to you know, break the ice? How do people do this???  And so, I dipped my quaking, uncertain toe back into the pool of dating very recently.  I pulled my foot back out and ...

So it turns out that the best ideas come to you when you're driving on the freeway at 2:49 a.m. and some accidental song comes on the radio that you would normally turn off without hesitation because it's hazardous to your sleep because it's a waking nightmare; and then some other far away song comes on, a band you worshiped when you were, I don't know, 13 yrs. old (Stone Roses) and for some reason, the muggy air, the reeds and marshes to your left; the oil wells to your right, the idea of Koreatown in a far off distance and some incorrigible pain in your gut that doesn't make any sense ONLY because you know exactly what it is (but it shouldn't be....THAT) all muddle together like some nonsensical soup in your head to crystallize and form the best story you've come up with in a few years, if you're being generous to your ideas...ok very generous and again, none of it makes sense but aaaalllll hints at something better: If you could JUST. STO...

This blog used to be about politics. I think I last visited it in the beginning months of 2010. At that time, life was beginning to take on some very dark, very frightening shades and tones and my obsession with politics; my obsession with myself started to look like distant imprints in a thick fog whenever I glanced behind me. And as a result, looking at those things started to become less and less engaging. Some force was trying to push me forcefully and excruciatingly into adulthood. I had begun my life in a family of artists and raised with the idea that being a practicing artist was the highest order of professions; being a doctor or a lawyer was bourgeois and banal. I always had the idea from my parents that they just didn't get doing something normal for a living because it was useless to man's aesthetic progress. I never felt pressure to do anything except to be an exceptional and successful artist. That's a lot. The fact that I couldn't maintain a relati...