Anger, all the time!

I can't help but feeling like we are a nation of enraged souls sometimes. Yes, you can argue that the zombie zeitgeist fad is just representative of our passive consumerism, but sometimes I feel like we are born to rage! Rage against the dying of the light, against the machine, we fight and fight and fight until our dying day, just to be heard. Clawing our way upwards out of obscurity. At least I think that's the path for artists. It's an uphill battle.

But if one's born into battle, and doesn't know any other kind of life, then how could the battle seem so bad? It's all you've known, and all you've had. (Thanks, Nicole Atkins.)

The waves fight the shore timelessly, infinitely, and crash on the rocks over and over again and the undertow will fight to pull you under and the dawn fights at the day fights at the light fading fights at the night. I don't see ecosystems anymore. I see great big bursts of chaos and confusion that inexplicably form patterns. We call it the circle of life.

Some mornings I wake up feelin' like an untapped resource. Sometimes my dreams eclipse reality.

white sea

well there's that

Someday I'm going to write something and it's going to scare people and they're going to trace it back to my life, like, "Where did that come from?" And I'll just tell them that my writing is generally a spillway for coasting through internal haze. And that the internal haze rarely translates into action.

Sometimes I merge lanes on the highway without checking any of my mirrors. I just brace for impact. It never comes.Painted the fuck out of my room

i wish i were you

Im'ma radio. You're a radio. I think we are all radios, just mechanized bits of meat and desire who are equipped to send out frequencies. Are you there, God? It's me, Margaret. Ground Control to Major Tom- can you hear me?

When people pray to an unseen/unheard god they are on a ham radio, searching, scanning, looking for someone on the same frequency. Someone to hear our broadcast. People praying are broadcasting hope. Someone listen.

When I sleep in the same house as my mother we sometimes have similar dreams. We're on the same wavelength.

Over and out.

ideas

A friend just told me to write down my ideas. Sometime I'm good about that, mostly I'm not. My thoughts live and die in conversations with loved ones for the most part. I save my thoughts to say to you because I love you.

1) I've been watching a lot of 80's films because I'm drawn to the pre-internet and pre-cell phone communication styles. The film "The Warriors," which is incredible, could not be made today as it is. It's based on a mistranslated act of violence, and today, which all the flipcams and iphones and bullshit we have to record history as it occurs, the premise of the film is an obsolete threat.

2)I like 80's films because they do not have to accommodate technology the way contemporary films do. There isn't a third party technology interface involved to communicate things through characters. It's all done through human interaction, without being enslaved to media devices. I like it. It's refreshing.

3) People losing each other in films is a problem. Like in The Warriors, or The Pick Up Artist (Molly Ringwald, Robert Downey Jr, 1989). Without cell phones, if you lose someone in New York City you will lose them. I like the justification of chasing down your target and the threat of a city swallowing up someone. You can't find them on facebook. You can't google them. They are gone.

fuzzy memories

sad songs and chardonnay

story of my fucking life.

I GOT SOMETHIN' TO SAY

Sorry, folks- I've been watching Strangers with Candy on netflix. So good. Watch it.

Anyway, I saw something TERRIFYING today

I went to the "Novel Cafe" in Santa Monica, which is right next to where I work, so that I could pick up a grilled cheese sammich for lunch. As I had forgotten my phone at work, which I would normally fiddle with while waiting for my food order to be ready, I seized the opportunity to window-watch the people passing by. Normal, right? Skinny kid smoking. Surfer mom and her blonde gap toothed kids. Meathead boyfriend in a green day shirt and his skinny little girlfriend holding hands.

The passersby hit a lull and I stopped backtracking their life stories, so I turned around to face the inside of the restaurant.

SO DIFFERENT Y'ALL

There are these little tulip shaped lights that I had never paid attention to before, and today I realised that they aren't lights at all- but hanging outlets for phones and laptop chargers, above each and every table. Convenient, right?

Everyone in the restaurant was plugged in and talking on their cell phones, or clicking away at a laptop. No one was talking to each other. It was scary to look at because people were quite literally plugged in- a woman was shouting, indifferent and oozing self-importance, while her blackberry was plugged in above her. She was skinny and standing, tethered to the tulip. She had fake breasts. Another man was pacing, while attached to his charger, talking to Gotham Records (the label sticker on his Mac laptop, I'm assuming it's his workplace) about signing somebody or something.

I hated. I'm never fiddling with my phone in public again.

We use technology as a communicative crutch. It's easier to push the buttons on a keyboard to broadcast meaning than to speak the words. I'm doing it right now. I've done it before. I love you. I miss you. See? I just did it again.

Someone apologized to me via facebook for breaking my heart three years ago. Wish he would have said it three years ago, when it hurt the most.

I'm lookin' for truth, here, people. Something real. Something not presented to me through a technological buffering interface to diffuse the pain or discomfort. Don't tell me I'm in the wrong city for that- I know it's here somewhere, hiding.

New York was gritty, sharp, real- it was video. Los Angeles is grainy, fuzzy, soft, smeared, faraway, smoothed over with smoggy skylines. The whole goddamn city looks like a faded photograph. There's truth somewhere here too. There's real people.

So long, summer. It's been real.