When I stepped out to get my car in the morning, the sudden heat blasted into my pores. It startled me for a second, but it felt different to the rest of the heat I felt over the summer. There was no humidity in the air, and the heat actually felt refreshing. This isn’t heat where even your sweat sweats as we’ve felt all through the summer. I can actually go around an walk in the heat and not be afraid of underboob sweat or pit stains that creep down to my ass.

It got up to 99.9F here in San Pedro, the third hottest day since 2010, but it could have been a lot worse.

Reading an entry of Anais Nin’s diary, I laughed out loud when I read this:

Nothing else about him interests me; his atmosphere of Middle West America homeliness, the cult of the ugly, the drinking, his dreams and talk, which I cannot even remember. Absolutely ordinary, youthful, too simple. – Mirages: The Unexpurgated Diaries of Anaïs Nin 1939-1947, July 13, 1940, p.21

I couldn’t help but think back to this passage, especially the phrase “the cult of the ugly” while watching the Cubs and the Cardinals in their playoff game.

I took Dallas Aunt to the airport at 5 am, so now is a moment to breathe in a cleansing breath. She means well, but there is always a wave of negativity that surrounds her. She’s warring with my entire family except the Grandmother, me and Wheelchair Cousin so it’s sometimes a chore to try and mediate between her and the family. I always make sure the family knows when she is coming so they can opt to avoid her. While I do love the fact that when she’s here I can take that time off and be with friends and feel human yet again, she really is a lot of work.

I do love the trappings of city life sometimes, the feeling of liberation of not being tethered to a car and just going where our whims take us. Of course in Los Angeles it doesn’t really work this way all the time, but there are times it gets close.

Madd and I wanted to go to St. Vincent Court after watching an episode of Tom Explores Los Angeles that explored this strange oasis of fake weirdness in the middle of the Jewelry District of Downtown LA. Rather than deal with the hassles of traffic from her Mid-City apartment to the parking woes of DTLA, we opted to take the train there which was perfect.

Sure the day pass is now $7, but it’s still better than paying for parking at all the places we ended up at. There was St. Vincent Court, the Central Library, cookies and coffee at Bottega Louie, tea and mochi ice cream in Little Tokyo. With the exception of St. Vincent Court, everything else was on a whim. “Where should we go now?” “What are you in the mood for?” “Oooh this looks good!” It’s an exhilarating freedom to be so whimsical, and I truly felt in the middle of the heart of the city as the buildings and skyscrapers loomed overhead.

The buoyancy of the day sent a bit of regret up my spine of how I lived during my Hulu years as my 20s became my 30s. Combine the stresses for working for a startup tech company with trying to get better at writing with blogging for LAist, it left me quite isolated. Actually, I isolated myself. I know it’s trendy to say that you have no regrets when asked if you have any, but if I’m being honest this is one my of regrets. Of not exploring, not seeing things and crawling into myself.

One of stupid things I did was at the library. For some reason, I thought it would be a great idea to borrow one volume of Anais Nin’s diaries and Deleuze and Guattari’s Anti-Oedipus. I was already carrying around the Bessoa book I’ve been reading, so for the latter half of the day I was schlepping a load. I guess I got a better workout than I had anticipated?

As much as I enjoyed being out and about, seeing all the homeless people really tempered the joy. Friday night while at Faultline with Daniel, there was a homeless man lying on the sidewalk sans shoes. As we were leaving, he was still lying there but someone had laid down a dirty dog with a drink right next to him. I thought that was awfully nice of whoever did that.

I never had anyone I could call “Master.” No Christ ever died for me. No Buddha pointed the way for me. On the mountains of my dreams no Apollo or Athena ever appeared to illuminate my soul.
– Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet, 70.

Yet another school shooting. It’s infuriating to see the legislative inertia of how to deal with this problem. I think every lawmaker should be arrested and tried for accessory to murder for allowing this to happen over and over and over again. And I’m not talking about putting them in Club Fed, either. No, they should be put in the same for-profit prisons they ship the black folks off to.

Deal with the guns. Deal with the mental health. Deal with the misogyny/racism/homophobia that is inherent in all of these acts. Just dealing with one of these won’t solve things. Deal with it all.

Actually, the more I think about it, the more like the sending lawmakers to prison idea.

Just finished Susan Sontag’s early journals from 1947-1963 Reborn as compiled and edited by her son David Rieff. The first sentence we read is a proclamation she wrote when she was 14: “I believe that there is no personal god or life after death.” Then at 15 we read her thoughts on reading Andre Gide, listening to Vivaldi and learning to drive from her stepfather.

As she gets older, has her failed marriage, has her son, has her lovers, she gets very introspective as journals should be.

The orgasm focuses. I lust to write. The coming of the orgasm is not the salvation but, more, the birth of my ego. I cannot write until I find my ego. (11/19/59)

My desire to write is connected with my homosexuality. I need the identity as a weapon, to match the weapon that society has against me…

I am just becoming aware of how guilty I feel being queer. With H, I thought it didn’t bother me, but I was lying to myself. I let other people (e.g., Annette [Michaelson]) believe that is was H, who was my vice, and that apart from her I wouldn’t be queer or at least not mainly so.

I connect my feat and my sense of guilt with Philip, with his publicizing it to everyone all over the world, with the prospect of another custody suit next summer. But perhaps he only makes it worse. Thus, why do I continue the deception with Jacob [Taubes]?

Being queer makes me feel more vulnerable. It increases my wish to hide, to be invisible — which I’ve always felt anyway. (12/24/59)

Need to finish up with Fernando Pessoa’s Book of Disquiet. Need to re-read Dostoevsky’s Brothers Karamazov.

Earlier this year I saw that the Church of Satan had a 40-question survey for applicants for an active membership, and I thought it was pretty funny. I was going go through these 1 or 2 at a time, but stopped for some reason. But here it is in its entirety.

1. What are your impressions of The Satanic Bible?

First of all, just a style note. “The Satanic Bible” should be either underlined or italicized since it does refer to a title of a book. For me, I prefer book titles to be italicized.

As for the book itself, you see, I haven’t read it in over a decade. I would have liked to brush up on it recently, but an aunt of mine just donated the bulk of my book collection to charity mistakenly. So there is that.

But from what I remember of it, it’s basically an extension of Nietzsche’s renunciation of the concept of god. It realizes that god is a human construct, and it forces humans to be self-reliant. There is no divine intervention. There is no fate. It’s just us. Of course, I’m doing this from memory, and that memory has been taxed with fun and party and drugs back in my 20s.

Of course I have questions about it. Like how come there are rituals when it emphasizes man. And without a god, doesn’t that defeat the purpose of creating a “church”? But once I buy the book again, I suppose I’ll find such answers.

2. What do you expect to accomplish through membership in the Church of Satan?

I honestly have no idea. I’m sort of doing this as a laugh/writing exercise, so I really have no expectations.

3. If you were granted three wishes, what would they be?

1. I would ask for unlimited financial resources. The one thing that causes a lot of stress in people’s lives is money and the lack thereof. So why not eliminate that stress for good? That doesn’t mean I’ll spend my life doing nothing and lazing about. It just means that I won’t have to do something soul-sucking and thankless.

2. Peace in my family. Some people in my family are just cunts. I would like them to be civil and decent to one another so they don’t drive me to my grave earlier than I want.

3. No more bad sex. That’s pretty self-explanatory.

4. What is your attitude toward animals? If you have any pets describe them. What is your ideal?

I love most animals most of the time. I can’t say that I enjoy seeing a rattlesnake when I’m on a trail. I can’t say that I enjoy seeing a deer jump out on a highway in the middle of the night as I’m driving at 80 mph. But it’s not like I wish them dead. I just wish they would avoid me at those instances.

I don’t have any pets right now since my grandmother is allergic to cats and doesn’t like dogs. I know, a Korean who doesn’t like dogs — ha ha. But I am a cat person. I love they are independent and you have to work for their love. They don’t just give you unconditional love. You have to earn it.

5. Are you satisfied with your sex life? Describe your ideal of a physically attractive sex partner.

No. As a live-in caretaker of my grandmother, I’m limited in what I can do. However even before then it’s not like I had gratifying sex. For the most part it was boring. Hell, I even had one guy tell me to quiet down because I was talking too much. I would have rather he just slapped me across the face.

My ideal physical partner is older than me, 6’5″ or taller, completely burly — or at least burly enough to throw me around on a bed — a nice thick 7 to 8 inch cock and arms I could use as pillows. The guy could be completely hairy or smoother than a baby’s ass. Blonde, brunette, bald, silver — again it doesn’t matter.

6. What is your life’s goal, and what steps have you taken to attain it?

Jeez. This is like those what-do-you-want-to-be-when-you-grow-up compositions you have to write in kindergarten. Look. I know I’m 36, but I still have no fucking clue. I guess I want to write and be happy. Write, well I do that. Be happy? Well, I haven’t been happy in a very long time, so I don’t know how in the hell I’m going to get there.

As for a particular vocation, “shitstarter” would be an apt description.

7. Do you find any of our tenets objectionable? If so, which and why?

Again, since it’s been a while since I’ve read The Satanic Bible, I don’t remember finding anything reprehensible.

8. How many years would you like to live?

No more than 65. Sooner if I’m sick or feeble. And that’s a maximum. I’ve learned through taking care of my grandmother that I don’t want to linger. Dallas Aunt and I talk about this all the time, and she has some stupid idea that we have no choice in the matter. Of course we have the choice.

In my mid-30s I already have back and leg pains. Constantly. Things only get worse as you get older, and if it gets too bad, see you I’m out of here.

9. What are your musical tastes? Provide examples.

My musical tastes can be all over the place. Lately they’ve been a bit more experimental with COIL and EINSTURZENDE NEUBAUTEN. I’ve also been listening to a lot of industrial music like SKINNY PUPPY and FRONT LINE ASSEMBLY. The rock-and/or-roll does move me too, like SLEATER-KINNEY and PJ HARVEY. The only time I really touch pop music is when it really challenges society and genre like MADONNA’s Erotica or anything by DEPECHE MODE. Of course there were the 90’s-00’s indie bands like UNWOUND, MILEMARKER, DEERHOOF, LIARS. Oh and 80’s college rock like BUTTHOLE SURFERS, SONIC YOUTH, BIG BLACK, SACCHARINE TRUST, MINUTEMEN, HUSKER DU.

10. Cite four motion pictures you consider your favorites, and why.

1. Natural Born Killers. This is perhaps a 90s version of Badlands except more quotable, more drug-influenced and more fun. Mix in a killer soundtrack, and it’s a wonder I loved this movie when I was a teenager.

2. Melancholia. I love Lars Von Trier films, and this one is my favorite. A portrait of debilitating depression, it is spellbinding and gorgeously shot. It shows how those undiagnosed with mental illness and living seemingly perfect lives can crack easily under pressure.

3. Female Trouble. This is the best John Waters film. Divine seeks fame by any means necessary including murder and culminates in her getting the electric chair. It also has the best rape scene in film history: female Divine getting raped by male Divine.

4. Breathless. I just can’t.

11. What are your food preferences?

I like nearly everything except shellfish and eggplant. But my favorites are fruit and anything deep fried.

12. Cite four books you consider favorites, and why.

1. Tim and Pete. Two exes get kidnapped and involved in a radical queer plot to bomb a Republican gathering and giving Ronald Reagan AIDS. I love the anger in this book.

2. Infinite Jest. An epic book that this is probably the easiest classic to read from the 20th century. Drug addiction, tennis academy, esoteric films and a hint of dystopian fiction.

3. House of Leaves. The scariest book.

4. The Brothers Karamazov. Perhaps the most perfect book ever written. It actually angers me that I haven’t read this as often as I should.

13. If you own an automobile, describe it. What is your ideal automobile?

I own a 2002 Toyota Camry, the quintessential soccer mom car of the last decade. It works, and that’s what matters most to me. I don’t really see cars as status symbols.

14. As a child, what were your favorite pastimes? What was your disposition?

I loved to read. Mostly I just wanted to be left alone unless I really liked someone, but that didn’t happen too frequently.

15. Of which country other than the one in which you now reside would you prefer being a resident?

I could see myself in France. They’re rude for no reason, smug and love arts. It’s like my homeland!

16. In what type of dwelling do you live? Describe your ideal home.

I live in an apartment. I would love to live in something that is airy and open, lots of windows, lots of glass.

17. Describe your political philosophy.

I’m an economic socialist and a social libertarian. In short, the government should help the poor and disadvantaged but shut the fuck up about who I can fuck.

18. What is your personal definition of magic?

A shitty table-top roleplaying card game.

19. Do you feel oppressed or persecuted in any way? If so, explain.

Not really. I might hyperbolically joke about it, but not really.

20. Are you self-sufficient or are you most productive in a group?

You know, I hate these binary questions. I can do both.

21. Do you make friends easily if you so choose?

Yes.

22. What is more important to you, self-satisfaction or approval from others?

Self-satisfaction is more important. Sure, I would love for other people to just die over the things I make and do, but it would be useless if I don’t like what I do.

23. Would you rather influence or be influenced?

I would rather influence. Bitch, puh-lease. Anyone who knows me knows I don’t like following people.

24. Do you feel you have leadership abilities?

I think I would be a good dictator.

25. Do you consider yourself a good judge of character?

This reminds me of a quote from Roseanne Barr: I consider myself a pretty good judge of people — that’s why I don’t like none of them. I find that hilarious.

The people I choose to keep close to me are good people, so yes. I think I’m am excellent judge.

26. In what organizations do you hold membership?

Again, another quote from a comedian. Groucho Marx: I don’t want to belong to any club that would accept me as one of its members.

27. Have you possessed or used illegal drugs or been convicted of a crime? If so, explain in full.

Crime, no. Drugs? Acid, pot, mushrooms, cocaine, meth, heroin and crack. Jeez, that really makes me look like a drug fiend, but none of these were done in the name of addiction. Purely recreational.

28. Describe a significant experience in your life bordering on what you would consider the paranormal or demonic, if any.

Some people might think my life is demonic, but no.

29. What forms of entertainment do you prefer?

I watch a lot of TV and movies. I need to kill a lot of time while babysitting the Grandmother.

30. Tell one of your favorite jokes.

What is the sound of a water truck colliding with a vinegar truck? Doooooooooouche!

31. Have you served in the armed forces? If so, provide pertinent data.

No.

32. How long did it take you to join the Church of Satan?

I ain’t joining.

33. Are you a smoker? If so, to what extent.

No. I smoked cigarettes for 16 years but quit four years ago. Cold turkey. As for other things, I haven’t smoked pot since around 2004. I smoked heroin once. Oh. I also smoked crack once.

34. Have you accomplished anything important or significant? If so, what?

My most important accomplishment is not having a boring 9-to-5 job.

35. Which parent do you admire most and why?

My dad because he’s dead.

36. Do you drink alcoholic beverages? If so, to what extent? State preferences.

I don’t drink much. If I do, I’ll sip a beer, a whiskey or something.

37. Do you have any tangible services or resources which you would care to contribute?

My bubbly fucking personality.

38. Are you free to travel? To what extent?

I am free to travel. My passport has expired, but that’s an easy remedy.

39. Define Satan.

St. Louis Cardinals fans.

40. Provide your signature attesting to the above, and enclose photograph.

Y’all know what I look like.

Tonight’s supermoon eclipse was sort of a bummer because of the clouds and haze. But it was nice to stand on the sidewalk for an hour or so during the total eclipse and wait for the moon to become visible. So now to wait for the next total lunar eclipse on January 31, 2018.

I cannot wait for this coming weekend — the next Jimmy Gone Wild weekend! Who knows? Maybe I’ll actually have a wild weekend! That would be something novel.

I don’t know what it is. I can’t remember if this happened yesterday or on Tuesday, but I found myself overcome with emotion at the mere mention of the pope. Don’t ask me why this atheist was getting teary-eyed hearing reports on the radio about his visit. But it happened.

I don’t need a lecture on why it’s stupid to get all worked up. It’s not like I’m extolling all the virtues of the pope and the Catholic Church. Sometimes I just like succumbing to the emotions of things. The best part is that I don’t have to take part of the dogma and beliefs and all that stupid shit. Win! Win! Win!

Today I was a bit transfixed by the pope in the popemobile heading down 5th Ave towards St. Patrick’s Cathedral. I kept thinking that a Latin American being driven through Midtown Manhattan while not wearing a seatbelt, shouldn’t the NYPD be beating him to within an inch of his life?

Today I suddenly experienced an absurd but quite valid sensation. I realized, in an intimate lightning flash, that I am no one. No one, absolutely no one. (p. 19)

I don’t know why I never heard of Fernando Pessoa (1888-1935) until now, but here I am reading Book of Disquiet. It’s part journal, part fragments, part fiction. It’s as if he was a blogger back in the early 1900s, a proto-blogger.

I’ve been a bit obsessed with journals lately. I also got Susan Sontag’s Reborn: Journals & Notebooks, 1947-1963 and can’t wait to delve deep into that. I guess this is slightly more high brow than using the Wayback Machine to read a former escort’s blog.

Some guy named Richard Dawkins apparently wrote something insensitive over the weekend. Several of my friends on Facebook bemoaned it, but I was wondering one simple thing: who is Richard Dawkins?

I posted something cheeky on Facebook wondering this, but no one answered my curiosity. So apparently he’s a British biologist who wrote a book in the 70s inventing the term “meme” and promoting a gene-centered view of evolution. He is also an atheist and apparently is very serious about it. I mean, I’m an atheist but at least I smile.

So I don’t know what this Dawkins fellow said, why anyone should pay attention to him or why I should care. I don’t know why others do, but I guess I’m choosing not to bear that cross.

This morning, I also posted a question to folks wondering who like the new Ryan Adams cover album of Taylor Swift’s 1989. Now I know several people whose music tastes to ignore. I don’t like Ryan Adams. I don’t like Taylor Swift. ‘Nuff said.

Over the last couple of weeks I went back and reread an old blog of a San Francisco-based hustler Devon Blackwell. He blogged regularly, had a complete meth-aided breakdown, moved to Houston and closed up shop. Actually that is an overly simplistic way of putting it. I wonder how he is doing now, over a decade later. Did he finish his degree? Has he found someone who compliments him? Is he all right?

I Peanutized myself!