I was determined as all hell to go dancing Friday night. Despite taking a nap that left me a bit nauseous, Madd and I finally left to go to Club Cherry. The last time we were there, we had lots of fun dancing non-stop. We were hopefully going to dance all of the shit from this week off and get drunk as all hell.

We got in at around midnight when they started a tribute to Amerika. All of the go-go dancers were on stage carrying a flag while Jimi Hendrix’s rendition of “The Star Spangled Banner” blared on the speakers. The only adjective I can think of is nice. The national anthem segued into Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York”. It was fun dancing to that while nursing my Long Island Iced Tea.

After that, I felt something amiss. I couldn’t precisely point to it; I didn’t know whether it was because I wasn’t as drunk I would’ve liked to have been, or if the music selection was just plain shit. It became clear to me as the night went on is that there was way too much testosterone flying about the club. Evidently a lot of the military boys decided to come out that night. Great. And to top it all off, they played Nirvana’s “Smells like Teen Spirit” and Beatle’s “All You Need Is Love” to close the night out. I was not happy.

Madd and I decided to go to the Coffee House on Sunset to commiserate. I got a fruit bowl with yogurt and a double mocha. Made plans for Saturday which involved make up shopping for myself and a movie. We ended up nixing the make up shopping, went to Borders at the Third Street Promenade and saw “The Glass House” (which was all right for that type of movie). I bought another Christian McLaughlan book called Glamourpuss, David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest, Queer as Folk soundtrack, and PJ Harvey’s Rid of Me. I lost IJ and Rid of Me during my move here to LA, so I’m quite happy to have them back.

So here I am at work, wanting to read. That’s all I want to do now. Read read read.

[another misposted entry. nuts]

I hate sitting in my car and waiting. Waiting for red lights to turn green, waiting for some asshole to get out of my way, waiting for the cuntfucker behind me to get off my ass. Everything just seems to get halted for that moment, driving me up the wall.

People say that we live in a fast paced world. That may be true, but it’s the spaces in between that have become unbearable. Perhaps it’s a symptom of this hyperspeed way of life. As much analysis that may be done on this, it’s still frustrating as all hell. Fuck it all.

Tonight is time for me to get my groove on. I’m going to Club Cherry in Hollywood (where that System of a Down free show ended with rioting) which will be a blast. I’m trying to decide what I want to wear, but I’m realizing I haven’t a thing to wear. Should I do makeup? How am I going to my hair? Ugh. Finally, normal dilemmas after this WTC thing.

I’m on the e-mail list for the LA chapter of the Independent Media Collective. I’ve been receiving commentaries ranging from Michael Moore to the Afghan Woman’s Mission. It’s amazing just reading these articles, knowing most of the advice will go unheeded.

Perhaps the most outraging piece of e-mail I have received today is allegations that CNN has been recycling video from 1990 showing Palestinians celebrating Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait. This is quite an appalling allegation, but I’ll wait for things to play out before I decide to believe it or not (although my instant gut reaction is to believe it).

Anyhow, I have more important things to worry about, such as what I’m going to wear tomorrow night when I go dancing. Tee hee.

I was incredibly depressed last night when I got home. The constant image of the second plane hitting the building completely devestated me. I was in a constant loop of anger, depression and fear. All of this can be noted in yesterday’s entry, but I was feeling this with more intensity. I decided to go out jogging and overheard a group of walkers talking about it saying, “those protestors in Seattle are involved. They want nothing more than destruction.”

Wow. That threw out my concentration during my jog. How many more ignorant ideas must we all hear regarding this incident? I’m just flabberghasted at all the words being hurled yesterday and today.

So I decided to go to Borders during lunch and bought the new issues of Punk Planet (with interviews with Shellac and Ralph Nader) and Wallpaper*. I’ll go home, read these periodicals and flush my brain from everything. Hopefully that will work.

Must do some new writing. Happy birthday Fray!

Surreal, angry, sad, giggly, introspective, obscene, hungry, tired, bored, horny, inundated, clean, irritated, offended, scared.

It never fails. As the hours pass, I have become increasingly numb to this entire situation. First, there was anger. I had no idea why anyone would want to send a message by slamming planes into buildings kamikaze style. Of course, this is before I could digest what others were thinking.

As the morning wore on, I heard every sort of voice saying what an outrage this is, asking what America did do deserve this, anger as to why America wasn’t prepared for this and calls to up defense spending using this incident as an example. The more voices I heard, the more annoyed I got. How can anyone living in this country think that we are li’l innocent people undeserving of something like this.

Now, as with everything in this world, this happened for a reason. Whether it was a bunch of Palestinians pissed off at our inseparable alliance with the Israelis, our constant exploitation of third world countries that drive them to the brink of extinction or whatever else, we need to do something to fix this. I’m not talking about retaliation or “justice”, but rather a complete overhaul of our foreign policy that actually supports what our country stands for.

I was sitting down for lunch at Subway which has a lot of windows looking out to the parking lot and street (Torrance Blvd). As I was eating, I had this nagging sense that someone was watching me. I started looking around suspiciously, almost in a paranoiac way, when I found the suspects. They looked as if they were trying to see within my soul. The piercing blue eyes caught me; I emitted a silent gasp.

I started to ask myself why someone would want to see within me. Was it my newly shorn hair? Was it my Fray Day shirt? Whatever it was, I felt flattered yet intruded upon. Fortunately, I was at the end of my meal and left soon thereafter.

Last night was Fray Day out here in Santa Monica. It was quite nice, but the turn-out wasn’t what I expected it to be. Most of the people heard it through word-of-mouth which was quite surprising. Then again, most people haven’t been checking The Fray out since 1997. Damn that’s a long time.

But the scheduled performers AND the open mikers were very good, the surprise being the open mikers. I’ve hosted and coordinated the huge Open Mike Night up in Santa Barbara (IV actually), and was quite bored through most of it. Nevertheless, there were many good stories shared last night.

It has gotten me motivated to get my ass writing, which is the main reason I went. My rate of writing has been like molasses. Hopefully that outlook will improve.

Any good shows in LA this week?

Lethargy has crept its way into my system now. I can’t seem to move my fingers, my feet, my brain. It’s all just too much right now. Hopefully some Pepsi (c) will fix that up soon.

Tonight — Something @ the Spaceland. I’m addicted to that place.
Saturday — Cut hair. Art opening in Camarillo. Betty Blowtorch and Radio Vago @ Spaceland.
Sunday — Fray Day 5 @ Un-Urban Coffeehouse, Santa Monica.

It seems that it will be a bit more mellow this weekend than last. That would be nice.