Monday, November 27, 2006

I am a creepy goblin.


Watching them makes me dizzy.

It's officially that time of year when the crows go mad. Not to imply that crows are ever a beacon of sanity, but there is a decisive decline in their behavioral stability during a certain few months of the year. This year, it is quite possibly longer due to the delay in the frigid winter season. Their migratory cousins started heading south a month ago, and now only the few and far between flock of geese are seen in the skies. The robins and cardinals have eaten twice their share of nuts and whatnot, burrowing there spherical little feathered bodies into holes and caverns for safety until spring. But the crows, the crows they know that genetics have done them a disservice. Doomed to fly and caw in the bitter air all winter long, with no cavern, no Florida, no fats for their bodies to feast on, too ugly to be taken in or fed for the sake of their company by the lake. I'm sure the crows know this and are truly unsatisfied by the equation, which would explain their late fall/early winter madness. They have begun their patternless silent circling above the roofs of apartments and houses and dwellings of business, and the like. It is most certainly an expression of madness, as there is no rhyme or reason to their flocking. The do not follow each other just hoards of feathers flying back and fourth and up and across. Watching them makes me dizzy.

ahh subtly has never been my bride

I just coughed up blood. A fucking lot of it. I cant stop sweating.
It's 6:01 in the morning and I need to go to work soon.

This is all fine though, as Wednesday morning I am getting my tonsils removed.

All I want in the whole world is someone to send me flowers while I'm bed ridden next week.

pssst. 3117 Oakland Ave S.

Sunday, November 26, 2006

an observation (part quatre)

When poured, hot water has a nicer sound than cold water.

Monday, November 20, 2006

sometimes i'm too tired to think of a title

d r i f t i n g a w a y

there is an upside to this. the farther i drift, the less answers i have to give.

the trick the trick the trick is to sound coherent, nobody will know the difference my little lovelies.

Thursday, November 16, 2006

for the record

I feel this important to tell to the world.

James Fowler is a saint. He is good to me even when I am a raving mad woman. Which lately, has been often.

And also, today on the phone my mother said this:
"My little Kendee baby is kind of a beast."

holy shit ma.

an observation (part trois)

It is very important to keep one's secrets to oneself. Clearly, things are secrets because the information is probably not good information, and thusly its best to just live with it yourself, because even Camus wanted to think about happy things most of the time.

Unless, of course, that secret is about a present. In this case it is still good to keep one's mouth shut, but it must be clarified that this is a good secret - very rare, very rare indeed.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

A list of things I have learned in the last two years:

+ I am a very difficult woman.
+ It is possible to have tonsillitis for an entire year and not know it.
+ Sleeping around is totally overrated.
+ When you work in a warehouse, it is very easy to get shocked.
+ My cat likes vanilla yogurt the most.
+ It is bad to drink whiskey cream, gin, and beer all within two hours.
+ I feel like a retard when I wear pink.
+ I resent the moon.
+ I am quite possibly unlovable.
+ If you are planning on getting a matching tattoo with someone, make sure the other person gets it on the same day as you so
you dont sound like a dumbass when you have to explain that the other half of the tattoo doesn't exist.
+ I am very medium sized. Not small, not big, medium.
+ I can hiss in my sleep (apparently it is very guttural).
+ I talk, kick, snore and sometimes scream in my sleep.
+ I dont really like making wishes anymore, I just do it out of obligation.
+ Shadows can be fun, but only when you are by yourself.
+ T.V. night (wednesday) is my favorite day of the week.
+ Getting a BFA is too easy.
+ I don't think I learn enough.

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

What's eating you?

According to my boss, I don't sweat hard enough for my eight-fifty an hour. According my my boyfriend I don't fight hard enough for my rights or the rights of others. According to my friends I don't hang out enough. According to my cat I'm not home enough. According to my belly, I don't eat right. According to my hormones, I've decided to take the wrong birth-control. According to my throat I don't fucking do anything right (I'm getting the little fuckers cut out though).

My back aches all of the time.

Could one person, cat or body part cut me some fucking slack?

I just want someone or something to be proud of me from time to time.

Oh my this just got conversational again.

Pass the gin darling, mama's got a lot more to tell you about.

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

With picture, one can shout

I'm sitting at a coffee shop, waiting for a pre-production meeting to begin. My heart is all a flutter. It's been just about a year since I last directed a crew on a set. I was convinced that I was going to take a year off this year, that I needed to find myself. What I have found thus far is that I need to be doing this. It eases my anxiety, to be building a project up. The control of directing, the web the web the web, spin it spin it. Another opportunity to own something, to give something to the world by taking even more from the contributors. Its a conundrum that I feel the most myself when I am focused on invented characters, how to make them, grow them, breed them, love them, make life worth it for them. Worth is really such a vague thing.

All I know is that this is what needs to be done. I'm sick of talking in whispers.

Today another short film.

Tomorrow a novel with my magic eyes.

After that godspeed to my soul, wherever it is these days (My guess is the unshaven armpit of a hooker in West Hollywood).

Friday, November 03, 2006


I'm needing, craving privacy. Nothing against anyone, any of you. I require a certain amount of solitude. To thrive. Thusly, this weekend I am working on a shoot out of town. Not far. Going "upnort" to Camphill Community, which is a sustainable community for special people. Going to check it out as an option for my brother as well as help out Rachel Morgan on her documentary. Also, the space and peace will be good for me. All week my mood swings have been intense and flippant, uncontrollable. I need to clear my head of the fog that has settled. Work on organizing a few scripts for an upcoming informal production meeting with someone I adore. I hold my breath and these things will pass.

Back in the water for Miss Malone.

Looks like I fell off the diving board again. I'm sorry, I never got swimming lessons.

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

an observation (part deux)

On a cold morning, if you face east, just after the sun breaches the horizon, your breath turns into gold.

Delores is my barometer for evil.

This morning my cat, Delores, lost her mind. For Lola, this is a common event, so I wasn't even noticing her manic behavior as anything worth mentioning. As I'm sitting on the floor in front of my mirror, putting on my face and drinking my morning cup, Delores is panting running up and down and up and down the length of my room (which is very long because it is in the attic and runs the length of the whole abode). Still not that remarkable for an odd duck like Lola. She starts cooing like a pigeon while she paces, which get my attention but only because it is the noise she makes when she wants something from me. She's not by her food bowl so I go on ignoring my sweet little spazmatic darling. It all started to get a bit weird when I noticed what she was cooing and growling at - the door to the crawl-space. Being fond of attics, I've had crawl-spaces in my room before, and never has one made me feel so windblown. Only just then, when I saw in the mirror reflection Delores was walking backward, blinking and making a weird chatter noise she makes when she sees something alive outside a window, mixed with her coo. She approached and recoiled a few times. Hisses and running headbut included (which sounds extreme but actually isn't for Lola). Now, I'm sitting facing the damned crawl-space door, glancing, worried over silly feline behaviors. When I come home from work today and change, I'm sure I will have completely forgotten how the crawl-space moved me and Lola this morning, and it will the no different than any other little door. However, for the time being, I pretty sure there is something mighty Lovecrafitan going on behind that door, complete with hieroglyphs, hidden stairs that descend into the earth, pentagrams, rivers of dried blood, wooden floor boards that ooze with oil, and violins that play people.