Also

Two latina woman in a minivan with a camera filmed him and I walking telling us "OH MY GOD YOU TWO LOOK LIKE MODELS, YOU'RE SO CUTE!" and then something about how her cousin was gay and he was going to hear about us. I blushed a little.

Balls.

So. Met yet another narcissistic drug addicted spends-all-his-time-in-the-pursuit-of-drugs-and-alcohol square scene kid. Normally I'd have tuned him out after the first comment about how sweet blow is but HE IS AN EXACT LOOKALIKE OF MY EX. The one that I was in pathetic love with and then broke up violently? Looks. Exactly. Like. Him.

Only he's openly more horrible, manipulative, and narcissistic. But it just weirds me the fuck out that this kid looks exactly like Ryan. What the fuck.

Scattered, scattered, scattered.

I just had the most terrifying dream and I have absolutely no one to confide it in to feel better and that's a shitty feeling. I feel like moving.

Also

Gun people are so funny. A black man at the convenience store just quizzed me for five minutes about AR-15's and gave me four dollars off my purchase because I "got him all interested."

ink

Flashes. The flashbacks are so acute some times. I'm driving and suddenly my senses are in chicago. Night. Him, to my left, always left, and my heart, beating. Why in all the years my heart has remained cold had it chosen to wake to someone so undeserving and irreverent of such great weight? But I woke in Chicago, for once I broke down the games my subconscious devises to keep my eyes turned outwards, abandoned the practice of keeping things at a distance and wanted to love. I close my eyes and the smell, the air and the sound of the car and I'm in Chicago, I feel echos of what it was like to have my heart alive and breaking and I shudder and feel a icy touch creep through my body as if the memory has entered my blood, fresh with the chill of the snow and air outside the windows those nights. It haunts me. I am so stoic and unmovable, oceans of feeling break against me and I feel nothing but that dull echo through numbed scar tissue and I stay, incapable and unwilling to feel, a rock in the waves. What a strange feeling to be reminded of being at the mercy of another, to feel my heart sting like a living, breathing creature instead of the cold circuit it has been resigned to. To remember when I hurt. To remember when I was the one pouring my blood before an alter to immobility. Before I was like him.

Oh, for unhealed wounds. It matters so much and so little and it so easy yet hard to repair. The need for release grapples with the symptoms of the wound and I cannot cry, cannot explain in words the injury because I do not love you. I cannot love you. Il a l'fait. He has made it so I cannot love you. I cannot heal because I cannot speak or cry or feel it anymore unless you're with me and I love you. But I let the boys fall in love with me and then realize I cannot understand their feelings, I cannot relate and I cannot find anything in them worthy of that heavy pain I bore would take to wake again. It is not a choice, being without love. To be touched by those who are beautiful and feel only what my nerves tell me. I was transformed in the winder, in chicago. I took it in, the breaths in the cold air borne to my blood and crept to the core. I keep it there, a photo memory of the time place and circumstance of the death of things and I keep moving so it will not swallow me whole. The flight has taken me far, far, far and cost me money, friends, lovers, and most of all time. Years of my life tossed to air to avoid the feeling that haunts me tonight.

Alone in my car and I'm in chicago. I remember it by the cold in my blood and the echo of feeling alive cast against the absolute stillness I've lived within since. An echo in silence rips through the ears like a gunshot, and I am overwhelmed.

Knock Knock. Who's There? ME OPENING A CAN OF LEGAL WHOOPASS, BITCH.

Pre Workup for Case: Toyota Camry Purchase


    Basis for Case:

Goal: Receive back $950-$1,000 in compensation for car.

Justification for cash: Due to incorrect paperwork given, I was unable to register and thus legally drive car or take full possession. Attempts to contact the seller were ignored by her, forcing me to buy another car so that I could legally drive. By furnishing the wrong paperwork and then refusing to reply or respond to repeated attempts at contact, the seller denied me the ability to complete the sale and legally possess the car I purchased.

Justification for nullification of sale: The seller also made false statements about the vehicle during the exchange. While I was viewing the car, I reiterated questions I had asked about the vehicle previously and was told that the car got "decent" gas mileage, that it did not smoke or make noises, that although it idled rough it was not serious and the car was mechanically sound. I asked if the car had any other issues and she answered no. In reality, the car gets abysmal gas mileage, it smokes and makes noises due to a serious power steering fluid leak, and the "not serious" idling is due to serious engine damage which would require the engine to be replaced to fix. The car also has a variety of other issues which were, of course, not mentioned when I specifically asked. Some of these include, the passenger power window being broken, the stereo being not removed but cut from the car with a knife, requiring $100 just to repair the wiring, the power locks not working from the driver's side, the passenger door lock unable to be opened from the outside due to damage, a loud, abrasive noise upon turning on the air conditioning, and water damage in the trunk due to a pool of water being allowed to remain there for an unknown amount of time.

Upon further examination, a mechanic who examined the vehicle said that evidence pointed to the timing belt having previously snapped and damaging major engine components. He said it appeared the belt had been replaced but no attempt had been made to repair the damaged components. Instead, it looks as if once the extent of the damage was discovered, it was simply concealed and sold. It would be very unlikely for a mechanic to replace the timing belt, which is the newest component in the car, without noticing the damage caused by the previous one snapping and impacting the engine. As a result it is extremely unlikely that the seller was unaware of the extent of the damage to the car. The extent of that damage renders the car almost inoperable, at the very least dangerous, and has reduced the six cylinder engine to running on three cylinders without full compression. The end result is a car that could fail at any time, is hideously inefficient on fuel and in need of repairs worth more the the car itself. When asked specifically and repeatedly about questions retaining to this, the seller either avoided the question, minimized the problems, or outright lied about their existence.


Independent of this, the seller also furnished me with paperwork which had already been signed over to a separate buyer who was not a party over six months ago. Both the bill of sale and the title I was given release interest to a third party who was never mentioned. After apparently keeping the bill of sale I signed for herself, I only later discovered that the bill of sale she had given me was to another person. The car, according to the paperwork, is neither mine nor hers, but some other person's. Therefor, according to what she provided me with, the car was never hers to sell, or at the very least she chose to sell it to me in a fashion that ensured I could never register it, and then proceeded to ignore all attempts at contact.

Conclusion: Due to deception on the part of the buyer witnessed by an associate including apparent concealment of serious problems with the vehicle which would have prevented the sale had they been revealed, furnishing incorrect paperwork, doubtful ownership in the first place, and complete lack of cooperation with all reasonable attempts to contact the seller regarding these issues, it is my belief that the sale should be null and the money tendered should be refunded. The vehicle should be returned to the seller in the condition with which it has been received. I am not seeking damages for repairs, gas expenses, mechanic's bills, or other expenses. If I were to do so, the damages sought would be substantially higher.

Some more happenings and observations

If you ever stay in the Daisy Hotel in Tacoma, Washington, wear a nun outfit or something or the sketchy guy who runs it will talk about and demonstrate the free porn the hotel has to offer for fifteen minutes. He's an overweight, hairy, SKETCHY AS HELL indian guy who will then knock on the door a full half hour before check out time and demand you leave.

At said hotel, there are also no locks on the door. I worked around this by not bothering to do anything about the door but having a loaded gun within five inches of my hand all night.

The bathroom smelled like rape. I didn't even know I knew what that smelled like until I tried to take a shower. The bedroom smelled like hashish and semi-consensual sex.

The drive to and from Tacoma is boring and a bitch. I went 80-85 most of the way back and exceeded the reading ability of my speedometer twenty-nine times.

One of the things I loathe more then anything is when someone tries to quote a stand up comedian, because I know of maybe three people I've ever met who can do that and actually make me laugh. Usually it's quoted incorrectly and then delivered with that laugh-craving, needy "eeh?" kind of punchline and it makes me fake-laugh uncomfortably and try to change the subject really hard. The next queer who tried to tell me this totally funny Margret Cho said one time and then incorrectly quote a quarter of one of her DVD's is getting tossed out of my car. Extra hatred is reserved for people trying to quote stand up comedians quoting other people, especially Margret Cho doing the voice of her mother. I love hearing a korean accent come out kind of german/russian and trying to understand what the fuck kind of reference you're trying to make.

I stole a sign from a Jack In The Box that offended me. It said in huge lettering "FORGETTING SOMETHING?" and then there's a giant picture of a fruit cup. I took this to read as "I THINK YOU'RE FUCKING FORGETTING TO ORDER YOUR OBLIGATORY FRUIT CUP, FUCK FACE" so I stole it and plan to modify it and apply it as a massive bumper sticker on my car. I haven't decided if I want to write "YOUR MOTHERFUCKING FRUIT CUP" or "A FRUIT CUP MOTHERFUCKER CHECK YO SELF" in sharpie on it yet, but it's going to be something motherfuckery and fruitcupy.

Still living in an art studio in which I'm not permitted to live. Someone is sewing relentlessly next door.

Did a shoot with Jonathan, not NEARLY done editing but hey.

Plus side of being me

I look phenomenally cute with fucked up hair, first thing in the morning in a loose fitting tshirt and underwear.

Events

I've been circling around Portland doing much and nothing. Former arch nemesis now not arch nemesis Jonathan has been in town and I've done a photo shoot with him, results pending. I've temporarily moved into my friend's art studio while I look for a cheap apartment (FOUND ONE FOR $300, DAMNNN). For now this will do, wireless internet via metrofi free wireless internet, no mattress but tomorrow I'll have one. Door locks. No shower = shitfuck, but I can wash my hair at least.

Tonight while going to McDonald's for food a black woman approached my car and asked if taco bell was open. I said I didn't think so, and he asked if she could jump in and go through the drivethrough at McDonald's. I unwisely allowed this, after making sure my valuables and gun were on my side of the car, and of course she turned out to be totally insane. She placed an order of at least twelve or thirteen things, screamed of course, and then proceeded to pay entirely in change. It turns out she was staying at the Kent hotel, which is a sex/hobo hotel with her massive amount of children. I gave her a ride back, and on the way I was cut off by a taxi, to which she proceeded to comment, and I quote "WHAT THE HALL KINDA THING THIS MOTHAFUCKA THINK HE BE DOIN I'MMA GET SOME ROAD RAGE UP IN HERE I DONT LIKE A MOTHEAFUCKA WHO DO DEM THINGS YA KNOW? I'MMA GET SOME ROAD RAGE UP IN HERE YA KNOW?" I agreed on principle and she got the fuck out of my car. She smelled a little like meth and oxycotton.

Portland - Again

I drove up all day with some friends from Highschool yesterday and got in lateeeee. Again stayed in the closet - I'm looking at subletting an apartment SOON so I don't have to do that again. Casting was today and it took maybe 45 seconds, the rest of the day I have free and empty and it feels awkward because this isn't my house and I have only a handfull of friends here. But then again I have a handfull of friends anywhere. I'm considering driving to Seattle but I don't have anything really going on there either.

This is how I looked for the casting. I love how I don't take these things seriously, but then again modeling is a shit job and I only do it when approached.

I'd really like something to do at the moment but everyone I know is scattered and really difficult and expensive to consolidate. I need to start making some money. Soon. Once I get an apartment I can relax a bit, although honestly I can get an apartment in just about any city I want to at the moment. Seattle, Portland, Ashland, Los Angeles. Maybe I'll look to Seattle, but I worry about getting caught up in another side project there.

I also worry about writing nothing but meaningless musings about things that haven't happened yet. THE CLOSET STILL HAS FIBERGLASS DUST.

Oh, I just remembered I'm supposed to call someone. Sweet.