got this test from corliss:

The Wild Rose
    Colorful, but unpicked. You are The Wild Rose.
    Prone to bouts of cynicism, sarcasm, and thorns, you excite a certain kind of man. Hoping to gather you up, he flirts and winks and asks you out, ultimately professing his love. Then you make him bleed. Why? Because you're the rare, independent, self-sufficient kind of woman who does want love, but not from a weakling.
    You don't seem to take yourself too seriously, and that's refreshing. You aren't uptight; you don't over-plan. Romance-wise, sex isn't a top priority--a true relationship would be preferable. For your age, you haven't had a lot of bonafide love experience, though, and this kind of gets to core of the issue. You're very selective.
    The problem is them, not you, right? You have lofty standards that few measure up to. You're out there all right, but not to be picked up by just anyone.

"You're never truly single as long as you have yourself."
ALWAYS AVOID: The Bachelor
CONSIDER: The Vapor Trail.

WTF IS THE VAPOR TRAIL!?!?!?

for the koreaphiles (you know who you are, and yes, you should hang your head in shame!)
from an interesting la weekly article on k-town, courtesy of g-lo:

All this talk of movie stars leads the conversation back to American misconceptions about Koreans — this time in Hollywood.

“On TV and in the movies,” says PK, “the order of sexy guys is always white, black, Latin, vibrators, Asian guys. We’re always below the vibrators.”

where's the love, east coast?
so this handy site tracker thing shows me where people are reading my blog from, and every time i check it, i always hold my breath in hopes that it will be 50% west coast and 50% east coast. i guess i like to think my blog has bicoastal appeal or something, or that my east coast friends will represent. alas, it's usually 85% west coast and like 10% east coast, with the other 5% coming from random people searching for things like the "restaurant from seinfeld" or "hemingway + the lost generation" or "sexy resume" (seriously). but lately, the east coast has been coming up, and yesterday we were at 65% west and 25% east. not bad, but where's the love, east coast?!? (god, i'm lame)

well the freak weather has left us, and we're back to foggy windy rain, which is somewhat comforting. i can't decide if i'm a warm weather person or a cold weather person. i used to love love love the sun (who loves the sun? who cares that it makes plants grow?), but i dunno, i think i'm probably more of a cold weather person simply because it's more romantic (ne ho romantic-ahhh), and i like the whole long coats/sweaters/scarfs/long-hair-flying-about-in-the-wind-thing (except i don't have long hair anymore, boo). but you know what the one good thing about warm weather is: miniskirts. ;) are you more of a warm weather or cold weather person? (ok that was pretty lame too)



i saw the dreamers on friday with regan, which was an interesting experience. did anyone else see it? it definitely leaves an impression on you. it's rated nc-17, and there's tons of nudity and explicit sex, but strangely, i was totally turned off after watching it. i was like, ew, is that what it really looks like?!?! the french guy in the film is MAD HOT though, and, as miguel said after seeing the matrix reloaded last year, i wet myself like five times. it's a nice-looking movie, but plotwise it's a little heavy-handed.

listening to: death cab for cutie's transatlanticism on permanent repeat (thanks to the margotbot aka columbia house)
reading: candy by mian mian

oh jake

love is for suckers
about to start my new internship, and today was our first meeting. i'm really really excited about this gig; it's something i've wanted to do for years. i actually interviewed for and was offered this same internship the summer after my sophomore year, but i turned it down to go to new york city. i briefly wondered today how things would have been different if i had taken the internship here instead. briefly. i'm feeling like, after a long break, this is a good step on the right path of what i really want to do in life.

so my first task is to write a "superlist", which is basically a list on any topic i choose, but it has to be comprehensive, so it has to be something where there aren't 10,000 items. if anyone has any good ideas, let me know. it can be about anything in the city.

things have been really relaxing in the city this week -- i didn't have any commitments or deadlines, and the weather has been absolutely beautiful. i've actually been wearing sunglasses out. for you poor frozen east coasters, the weather's been about low 60s here, which means you don't need to wear a jacket until nighttime. absolutely lovely. freesia and i had lunch at this great little patisserie on guerrero and 18th called tartine. the food is so so good, but a little on the pricey side. definitely the place to go for ham and cheese croissants on saturday morning. i miss paris like crazy (and am in desperate need of a shopping spree in london).

well i suppose i should say something about valentine's day. it's not a big holiday for me, just another excuse to drink. my associations with valentine's day and boyfriends are overall pretty negative, save one: way back in seventh grade, my boyfriend at the time gave me a silver necklace with a heart pendant that had an "L" on one side and "Love, Eric" on the back (his family owned a jewelry store). yes, i was a golddigger even then.

but you don't want to hear the good stuff, do you? you want the dirt, of course, you cheeky thing, you. so i will tell you, even though my ex-boyfriends do read this blog. but i do it all for you, my faithful readers: i broke up with one boyfriend the week before valentine's day, and a few years later i got into a horrendous fight with another one to the point where we almost broke up. thinking about the latter today, i had forgotten how bad that fight was--we had fought about something that i can't even remember anymore, but it was so intense that it brought us to the brink of ending the whole thing. instead, we decided to not speak to each other for a few days and to spend some time thinking about it while i went for a weekend break to edinburgh. i remember that before i left i got a very nice valentine's day present from him in the post (the mail). i thought it was a sign that he had gotten over whatever we were arguing about and that things were fine again, but it turned out that he had sent it before we had the fight. that was probably the worst fight we had in our entire relationship. oh l'amour.

within you without you
there's this scene that always haunts me from annie hall: annie and alvy are about to sleep together, except she wants to smoke pot first but he doesn't want her to be under the influence while they're having sex. so they forge ahead without the weed, but a transparency of herself steps outside of her body and goes to sit on a chair nearby, watching the scene from a distance, slightly bored. alvy asks her if she's alright, says it seems like she's not really there with him, but she assures him that she is. that scene pretty much captures the state of things for me these days.

i've had to learn how to separate my mind and emotions (yeah, i've got a few) from my body, and it hasn't been the most pleasant experience. your body does one thing while your mind sits on the chair next to the bed, wishing it had brought a book along to pass the time. and you can't help but slightly miss the old times, when your heart and your body were one, when you had a heart, when you weren't jaded beyond belief, when you believed in love and romance and first kisses and the meaning of love songs and fluttering heartbeats and holding hands and coy glances and things unspoken but understood. but you wake up blinking one bright sticky sober morning with dry contacts and a dry mouth, and the radio's been on all night, and you ponder what it would take to bring those two things (your emotions and your body, that is) back together, and if you even want those things to be back together. you stare at the ceiling, thinking back to a time without secrets, when things happened spontaneously, when you didn't have to worry about mutual friends, or the past, or an uncertain but surely volatile future, and the judgment of your peers. but you can't think about all this right now, because after all, your body is still in that bed and you have to put a wan smile on your face.

excerpted from my favorite column, putting some perspective on the janet jackson super bowl debacle:

So outraged was the populace that Michael Powell, sanctimonious head of the FCC, he of the flagrant corporate whoring who recently tried to cram through new rules that would've allowed a handful of media giants to own almost every media outlet in the nation, is actually launching a probe into the Janet episode. How cute.

This is the message: A woman's bare breast is a horrific and disturbing thing, completely inappropriate for an afternoon of wholesome macho homoerotic skull-bashing NFL violence and endless hours of nauseating commercial crassness -- unless the woman is, you know, a cheerleader. Now rush off to bed kids, and read your Bibles while Mommy and Daddy pop some Zoloft and Levitra and crack a few Bud Lights and head off to the fetish dungeon to lick our new Ford GT. Got it.

Yes, a woman's flesh is unspeakable evil. However, umpteen erectile-dysfunction commercials and crotch-biting pisswater Bud Light commercials and toxic-junk-food commercials and faux-macho truck commercials and the ad featuring two old people beating each other up over a bag of greasy potato chips, why, that's just tasteful, healthy capitalism. Is that it, Mike? Politicians? Just want to be clear.

Because there is no outcry. There are no snide FCC honchos or uptight politicians hurling the terms "vile," "disgusting" and "crude" at the true poisons of the culture, like those above -- not to mention politicians' own oil cronyism or easy lies about war, or the decimation of our foreign policy. You want to talk vile and disgusting, senator? Have you seen the new BushCo budget?

...

But in the final analysis, which is more harmful to your innocent unsoiled perfect child? Hearing Bono say "this is really fucking brilliant" during the Golden Globes and ogling Janet Jackson's PR-happy breast for all of 1.7 seconds, or the endless stream of blood-soaked images of BushCo's bogus war machine interspersed with never-ending commercials featuring misogyny, bestiality, cheap beer and toxic sodas, along with arrays of pneumatic bleached-toothed cheerleaders doing the splits while sweaty 300-pound men in tights pulverize each other like gorillas on meth?

Verily, congressman, and truly, Mr. Powell, why are you not out there screaming and clenching your fists and protecting our innocent children from the endless array of sociocultural lies and abuses and corporate whorings you yourselves support and help perpetuate?

Why are you not, in short, ranting about the need to protect our children from the likes of, well, you?

i was catching up on current affairs (i.e. reading US weekly and Lucky) at borders at stones today with jokey, and i came across this article about the sf dating scene. it was a boring read, but an interesting acronym caught my eye: "I started talking to a guy, who was not only too young but also GU (geographically undesirable, because he lived in Mountain View)."

although i will freely admit to having a superiority complex when it comes to being a san frncisco native, i've never necessarily marked a guy down for where he lived.

HAVE I?!?!?!

thinking back, it might be subconscious. my friends love to essentialize people based on where they grew up or what school they go to, but it's all a joke....right? is it really ok to judge a guy based simply on where he hangs his hat?

on second thought, i'm not sure if this writer labeled the guy as GU because Mountain View is so far from The City or just because it's Mountain View. one can be GU if one lives too far away; but one could also be GU if they live in a place that's, let's say, culturally impaired. but if the latter is the case, i'd say about 94% of American guys even qualify to be GD (geographically desirable), since only one city really gets respect from sanfrncscans, and there aren't that many guys who live in new york city. personally, the only other city besides nyc that i would consider GD is berkeley: oakland thinks it has more street cred than sf, san jose is too far, and all the other places in the bay are suburbs (enough said).

but this GU thing really got me thinking: as if guys don't have enough to be insecure about (not tall enough, not cut enough, bad dancer, bad breath, etc.), now they have to worry about whether or not they live in a GD place. it can probably be proven, though, that the further one lives away from a major metropolitan area, the less action one can expect. i mean, seriously, what would you say to a guy who said "Hey, come back to my place....in Mountain View"?

how is it february already??
on friday for some reason i can't remember at the moment g-lo suggested i set up a counter on my site, to track who is reading my blog. i guess i wasn't really that drunk cuz i remembered the website the next day and set one up. scratch that, the site isn't hard to remember, and i was faded to the point where i was sitting there "listening" to steve pontificate about hb allthewhile thinking "goddamn. i'm faded." the point is i've got a counter now, and i can see you muthafuckas. yeah, YOU. it's weird, someone actually found my site through miguel's blog. odd. STALKERS!

moving on. i've realized that my ex-boyfriends have all gone on to be better at things that i considered myself talented at -- one's currently in journalism school, and another is just a better goddamn writer than i am, the fucker. i'm not sure what the other one's up to, but i'm sure he's better at something that i think i'm good at, too, like parallel parking or kissing or drinking or mocking. something, damn him. as the woefully underrated nikka costa said, everyone's got their something -- i guess, but why do they all have to take mine?

i was in berkeley three times last week. on a not unrelated note, i cracked the 1PM wake-up, a few times, as well. i am a goddamn lazy ass bastard! if you see me online at 1 PM, and i've just signed on, please call me a lazy ass bastard, cuz I AM.

now that my teeth aren't bothering me anymore, i've been eating like crazy recently trying to gain the weight back, trying to put some junk in my trunk to make cherry proud to call me pilipina. speaking of, my dad just put up a new painting of his in the living room, and i love it. it's a really serene ocean landscape, with tiny yellow birds, a big rainbow, and a happy little boat sailing off to warm clear waters you can swim in. i told dad how much i liked it, and he said, "when i die, i want you to remember: i am the boat." my dad's the cutest, and he can cook a fish like no one.

i'm not sure what it is, but there was way too much sexual tension last week. is it that whole feb. 14 thing? *eye rolls*

and now, a list of small obsessions:
"me, myself, and i," beyonce knowles, remixed with the "uptown baby" (tariq and peter gunz) beat
"yeah," usher feat. luda and lil jon: DAMN YOU JOKESTER. DAMN YOU.
persepolis, by marjane satrapi: my second graphic novel; in sam's words: "Lisa, what has happened to you? You've changed, you've definitely changed."
"toxic," britney spears: i know, i know, my ibook's going to hell because i downloaded it, but it's still a good song.
"go it alone," noonday underground
"scream," and "let's talk turkey," ima robot: no one trusts me about this ima robot thing, for some reason, but you'll see. you'll see!
"a favor house atlantic," coheed and cambria
the grey album, dj danger mouse
"inside of love," nada surf

who are these people?
haven't blogged a real entry in a while, too busy with my ziggy stardust lifestyle. here goes.

so you think you know a person, but you really don't. even the people you see every day, for say, eight weeks, or ten weeks, or 23 years. how well do you really know them? it's even more strange when you grow close to people in a short period of time in an isolated place away from home, and then, when you see them again, it's as if they're totally different people. you notice things about them that you amazingly overlooked before. makes you wonder if you ever really knew them at all, or if the person you knew was somehow incapacitated in an accident and this person is just masquerading as them, or if it was all just a facade from the beginning. i guess it's the ultimate truth that we are products of our immediate environments, that we can change chameleonlike to fit the situation. we can change our spots, bringing some characteristics to the forefront while drawing back others.

and i'm no better than anyone in this way, not even bitch-ass girls who blog shit about me and my friends while being nice to our faces. if anything, i'm probably worse. with each new section of my life, i've been able to successfully reinvent myself, improving upon each previous version. there's a drastic difference between personal growth and reinvention. the point is that when you live in the moment, like most of us do, it's hard to really know what's real. we try on different hats, different personas, see what works, what sticks to the wall. but i like to think my core values stay the same, although my actions might not, and i haven't actually changed so much to the point where people who knew me before would say about me, "who is this person?" i think i treat people the same across time and locations, and i definitely don't front about how i feel about someone. as most of you know, i have a really hard time masking on my face what i'm thinking. and why should i?

one of the most unforgivable traits i find in women is deceit. i say in women specifically because i feel women are more predisposed to deceit than men and more adept at it. honesty, almost brutal honesty, is something i will always welcome in both men and women. most people will say it's one of the foremost traits of my character.

...or is it?

fuck good charlotte
since when did good fucking charlotte become society's moral fucking compass and arbiter of female values??? first, that goddamn "girls don't like boys/girls like cars and money" has reignited a new wave of misogynism, for no reason at all. i'm gonna say it just once: girls LIKE boys. girls could care less about cars and money. jesus. girls want someone to listen to them and make them laugh. THAT'S ALL IT IS. OK?!?

secondly: "hold on"--since when is good charlotte telling me to "hold on/things get better" going to make my life a better place?

thirdly: that mtv/good charlotte promotion a while ago about safe sex. how is good charlotte going to tell me to have safe sex? why must good charlotte be associated with safe sex? i mean look at them! it's too much.

ok i think that's enough.

long lost pics unearthed! see "new york cares" post below.

Which David Bowie are you?

oh my god
freesia lets her luda guard down:
like he needs to stop trying to make you into the type of girl that he wants to date... just because he wants some demure girl who will, as ludacris put it "be a lady on the street but a freak in the bed" (i can't believe i just quoted ludacris) does not mean that that's what's right for you.

another trying week of going out and getting drunk. sigh, it's a hard life. i've totally screwed over my body for the past week and a half, and as a result one of my wisdom teeth excavation sites is giving me drama and a swollen cheek. fuck.

shoutout to the bot, who shadowed me this week and provided much entertainment as well as a copy of the ima robot cd that i'm all over. until we meet again! eeoc, whaaaaaaat?

who, me?
The Entertaining Monkey - The "Merry Mercurial"
While a lively year of good times, good friends, and lack of boredom, only rarely are your own Monkey years constructive and capable of permanent development. Monkeys have difficulty staying on a straight and narrow course, tempted to take detours and short-cuts for the pure pleasure of discovery and novelty in 2004. It is not advisable to borrow or lend money to or from friends relatives or family members. Despite the drama, you do find the year's prevalent upheaval amusing. Attend more parties, weddings and happy events. Best months of the year for Intelligent Monkeys: July, August, September and December. Use extra caution during February, March, April and November.

"to world peace"
last night in berkeley

bot and cher

cher and friend

me and j-lo

christine and friend

bot gets tipsay

jean and jaime

scott and bot

bot (pre-"fuck you lisa") and jai

my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard
the difference between freesia and i (guess which one is mine)


got some pics from alice's last week in d.c (FINALLY)

alice and i after 801 became 911, at a seafood restaurant on 17th street where we were the only straight people there

alice, scott, and i pre-tequila grill for the last time. oh alice and your smirnoff ices...

new york cares
often times i forget. it gets overlooked by d.c., england, berkeley, and sf. but make no mistake -- i grew up one glorious summer in new york city, a wide-eyed 20-year-old girl from "cali".

i lived on the third floor of a red brick apartment building on west 20th street, between 7th and 8th avenues, in the chelsea district of manhattan. my roommate was a 25-year-old korean girl from atlanta who had previously worked in fashion and was currently looking for work. she was very friendly, but i rarely saw her, and i think she eventually came to hate me for having so many guests stay over. my room was a living room that was converted into a bedroom and consisted of a full-size futon, a lamp, a dresser, a tv, and an air conditioning unit.

i worked only three blocks away, on fifth ave. and 23rd st. so i would wake up, shower, and roll into work, yet still manage to get there later than my co-workers who had to take the subway in from brooklyn and the bronx. bethany was my co-intern who had been working there for two weeks already while i was in the philippines. we clicked immediately.

bethany became my partner in crime. the city scared me to death, but i told myself that if bethany (a tiny girl from "bahs-tin" who looked like she was twelve) could handle it, i could, too. we spent almost every day together for 8 weeks that summer, and i never got sick of her.



the days were hot, and i used to sunbathe on my fire escape and listen to alicia keys. i was going through a halter top and flip-flop phase, and that was pretty much my uniform the entire summer. but it was still hot beyond belief. more than once i went straight home, threw off my clothes, and sat in front of my air conditioning in my underwear until i cooled down. more often, bethany and i would go out after work, shopping up and down fifth avenue near the office, to bryant park for monday night movies, to soho for middle eastern food, to herald square. our goal was to hit each banana republic in the city, and we came damn close. i learned how to walk like a new yorker, fast, darty, and with a little swivel.



there was a steady stream of visitors through my apartment. sam and bethany, drunk and eating m&m cookies (sam would always go directly to my bathroom; bethany kicked me countless times in bed when she stayed overnight each weekend); crystal and freesia, with their endless shopping bags; kat and sketchy's 20 fake rolex watches; kimi and shimon camping out next to my bed for a night; laurie waking up at some ungodly hour just to go to h&m; chain-smoking owen and his sexual escapades; ali and jonny stopping by; bethany's insanely boring i-banker yuppie friends. i didn't know a soul in new york when i stepped off the plane, but somehow i was never alone.

crystal made fun of the hassidic jew children on the statue of liberty ferry; we stumbled on a cafe from a scene in "you've got mail"; we bought tickets to see "chicago" from the tkts in the world trade center; i threw up a dub in the met; we ate crab sandwhiches in the shadow of the brooklyn bridge; we drank dunkin' donuts coffee on monday mornings; sam and i had cigarettes on my fire escape; frees, crys, and i took a chinese bus to boston for a day and threw up dubs at harvard. in july we went to seattle and scandalized the DC interns. we sipped forties or brass monkeys on my rooftop, getting drunk amid the lights of downtown. we ate mr. softees endlessly, at all times of day. we let our bosses take us out to a yankees game and buy us beer and hot dogs. bethany and i roller skated in central park, fell asleep on the grass, and then went down to chinatown for steak cubes.



and that's what it was. i was young in new york city, with great friends and no inhibitions. one of my strongest memories from that summer is laughing, i swear that's all we did, everywhere. somewhere among all the mr. softees, banana republics, steak cubes, softshell crab sandwiches, falafels, and m&m cookies, i guess i grew up.

i usually hate long lists that generalize about a group of people or an emotion, but this is actually quite on point. damn, i didn't even realize #25 until i read it here. curse you #30, curse you. i can't believe a guy actually knows about #47. i swear there are only like five of these that i disagree with personally, but agree with about chicks on the whole. this guy is good.

this one wasn't bad either.

so this is the new year
it is hereby resolved:
-be less contentious when drunk
-write more, inlcluding that novel
-hie thee to the gym
-always use protection
-be on time
-eat three square meals a day (coffee doesn't count as a meal)
-no coffee after 11pm EVER
-don't double-book
-be more patient with friends from high school (and earlier) and always remember that you love them very much no matter what they say/do/wear
-take a trip at least once a season to somewhere i've never been
-drink more milk/take calcium pills
-read more nonfiction (blogs don't count)
-go to england like i've said i would for the past two years
-be on time (it bears repeating)

p.s. hey alice, let's get together soon.
p.p.s HAWAII, march 3-10, with jokester. hell fuckin yeah.

please god, let me write like a man
some recommendations:
- sam goes all the way uptown for some hot chocolate with milk in it (even though the manager wants him to use water). "hello, may i speak to...to michael?"
- lin spends a week in san francisco with me and leaves with an expanded knowledge of creperies, a waning coffee buzz, and a distaste for the south bay. my work is done.
- imad returns from that sad old bugger of imperialism and concludes that i should hold public office.
- dave, come back. we miss you so. who else could possibly get 42 eprops on one post?
- arthur only reads peoples' blogs to see if they've mentioned him. i'm not sure if he reads mine, but if so, this one's for you. if you click only one link this year, click here.

a latecomer:
- brandon finally discovers girls and affirms my suspicion that i know no single guys who are not bitter and fed up with chicks. the bit was well-written, b, but remember blogging means never having to say you're sorry.

I'd give anything for a cheese steak sandwhich and fries
You know the Paul Frank monkey? I have these Paul Frank monkey PJs that a bf bought for me one year, some of you may be familiar with them. "Well, this is the only time you'll get to look like the monkey on your pyjamas," my mom has just consoled me. And it's true. I do look like that monkey right now. My cheeks are massive.

This is not doing good things for my self-image, which, as some of you may know, has of late become preoccupied with the idea that I have a fat face. Looking over my high school photos and comparing, I fear it's true. "Medium!" teases Freesia, who knows that every year some well-intentioned male always buys me an article of clothing sized medium, which throws me into a self-conscious fury about my perceived body size. This happens because, these males claim, they judge a girl's size by her height, not her weight, and I am pretty tall (although Ali loves to make things worse by saying that I'm not really that tall), even though I have long had a obvious (however apparently not to males) preference for wearing my clothes on the small size.

Anyways. After weeks of having the bejesus scared out of me by all my friends who have gone through this wretched procedure, I was finally ready to face the chair. Unfortunately, two nights prior, Biff and Kimi regaled me with horror stories of heads being jerked around and waking up midway through it to sights that they spared me details of. "Lisa, you're talking to three people who have all gone through it," Kimi said. "I mean, you will live!"

Then it occurred to me that this was something not unlike giving birth. People do it all the time and live. It's an everyday occurence. In fact, this is probably the closest I will ever come to giving birth and having something, four things to be exact, extracted from my body. Funny how the recovery period for having a child is actually shorter than undergoing this surgery.

So I lived. I actually woke up crying, an interesting side effect. I guess you can cry and not be conscious. It's a reaction to pain, not always an emotional response, or something? Very odd. Odder still is that I couldn't stop crying even after I was in the recovery room. I actually had to tell myself to stop being a sniveling wreck because there was no reason to cry. Yet if I hadn't been in public, I would have cried for a bit longer. Crying is one of those things where once you start, it's really hard to stop because you start feeling sorry for yourself and then your mind starts to search for other things to cry about, and then you're a sobbing crumpled mess. But, it's also very therapeutic. Kimi told me a long time ago that it's ok to cry because it means you're healing. The last time I cried was that night in DC at Dream, on Lin's shoulder, for hours.

So I've been bed-ridden for the past two days. My dad spoiled me like a baby all day yesterday and my mom takes the night shift of being Florence Nightengale, a role she enjoys to no end. I've been alternating between magazines, painkillers, antibiotics, and movies, and online a little bit. The movies I've been watching have done little to decrease my delirium at being inside for so long: Igby Goes Down, Your Friends and Neighbors,Restoration, and 8 Women, an eclectic mix (has anyone seen any of these movies?).

>

I should be back to my usual carousing self in a few days. Big birthday shout-out to my pimp, who turns the big 21 today. Your life will never be the same, my friend.

And, for your enjoyment, pics here and here of Lin's tour of SF (courtesy of me) last week.

what shall we toast to?
so jokester says that the words of the break were "bar" and "stones." but i'd say the words of the break were "random ass folks from back in the day" and "the mixing of two worlds." here's the two week holiday night recap:

mon/22: elbo room with biff, kimi, ali, freesia for gift exchange and ocean beach ice teas that are KILLER
tues/23: THE ONE NIGHT I CHILLED AT HOME
thur/25: dragon lounge with crys ("did you bring the coochie??"), frees, ali, cherry, jonny and crew, laurie and crew (eug, poof, pete, keith, jeannie, crit, scott)
friday/26: hobson's choice/city tavern/blue triangle with elementary school crew, middle school crew, high school crew and hella friends (aka night of randoms aka night of john solomon)

check out my phantom shot hand--my hand is actually starting to curve naturally into the shot glass holding position. not a good sign.
sat/27: 26mix for kathy's birthday with kimi

me and frootz (she looked like that in every picture)
sun/28: frjtz/crepes on cole/tart/pig mania domination with lin, dennis, jokester, and kat
mon/29: berkeley/zachary's with cherry, alice and lin, then ghiradelli/twin peaks with lin and jokester
tues/30: valencia/place pigalle with dc crew: alice, jaime, lin, dennis, scott
weds/31: freezy's heezy
thur/1: tart with jai and lin
fri/2: elbo room and toxic ocean beach ice teas with the margotbot, boyfriend of the bot, and friends of the bot (incl. this guy i went to preschool with)
sat/3: julip/bliss bar/pupusas with alice, scott, dan, biff, alex, kimi

"today is for god, not for dates!" -- freesia, today
"you're a marxist with fashion sense." -- biff
"you're gonna have a hella strong urinary tract! OK? OK??" -- me to jokey
"you like that movie, huh." -- jonny to lin
"we made sweet, sweet lipstick all night long." -- crystal

just a new year's list.
"waltz #2," elliott smith
"so says i," the shins
"gigolo," nick cannon feat. r kelly
"it's my life," no doubt
sea change, beck
the complete stone roses, stone roses
another fine coaster, samson lee
transatlanticism, death cab for cutie
the namesake, jhumpa lahiri
the rotter's club, jonathan coe
the fellowship of the ring, jrr tolkien
frjtz
pig mania
waking up and yelling "I WANT MY GIFTS!" at sleeping laurie at 8 am this morning like it was christmas, then wearing all the hella cute nyc stuff with my pjs

save me from tomorrow, save me from tomorrow
so i get what the sun also rises is about: the lost generation and how war changed the values of that generation, shifting meanings of sexuality, masculinity, and meaningful relationships. i haven't been able to shake it out of my head since. hemingway's group of expats in that novel bear a striking resemblance to my friends today, i fear. we rush along, from bar to bar, party to party, city to city, country to country, in a drunken, exhilarated horde. we party to escape the meaninglessness of life, the dull numbness of work, and the mind-boggling insanity of relationships, but we can't even realize this fact because we're too busy being drunk. but what is the reason for our disillusionment with life? we all grew up so privileged, went to school in a good neighborhood, then off to college, studied abroad in our junior year, now working decent jobs. i don't think it's a bad thing, really, this stumbling along without catching our breath to stare down our sad state. but it begs the question: just what are we running from?

high school friends + new friends + laurie's friends + rum and cokes + 1 liquid cocaine
add sexual tension (mostly involving ali), and stir
= a great christmas night!
MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Pedro Romero had the greatness. He loved bull-fighting, and I think he loved the bulls, and I think he loved Brett. Everything of which he could control the locality he did in front of her all that afternoon. Never once did he look up. He made it stronger that way, and did it for himself, too, as well as for her. Because he did not look up to ask if it pleased he did it all for himself inside, and it strengthened him, and yet he did it for her, too. But he did not do it for her at any loss to himself. He gained by it all through the afternoon.

you think this is easy?
ugh, this is the tough part--too many people reading this blog so i feel constricted in what i can discuss. ugh.

so, goddamnit, i think about you. and i hate it.

it's not easy for me. it's not easy to lie in bed alone each night. it's not easy to admit that i get lonely every now and then. it's not easy to think about all the good times we had. it's not easy to drink cold coffee mixed with rain and teardrops.

i really hate all this sentimental crap, but i can't help it. too much drinking for a monday night. i love my friends!

ten moments
1. "thanks for buying me a drink."
"yeah, well you let me grab your ass, so i thought i might as well." (i'm still not sure if this was just a joke)
2. "ali's a hooker!"
3. the "whoo" circle (so annoying!)
4. "who's that girl he's dancing with who is hella less cute than you?" (from more than one person. hella messed, but also you know.)
5. christine and scott's dance-off
6.a few different people: "are you having fun?"
me: "no, not really."
7. "so when is braz going to take his shirt off?"
8. kristin: "what are we going to do now?"
me: "eat a whole lot of sausage!"
9. "what the fuck--is this a malibu and pineapple????"
10. being beaten by an over-6-foot-tall korean man in the street and no one intervening

thanks to everyone who came out and shook it like a polaroid, extra special thanks to those who bought me drinks or bore gifts, super spesh thanks to a sickly vic and his girlfriend who stopped by (and paid cover) for just a minute to drop off a totally unnecessary (but very much appreciated) present. apologies to ali for the hooker thing. big dis to the dj for playing a wack-ass mix of "in da club," the only song i really wanted to hear last night.

sadly, LOTR was NOT ROTL (Return of the Legolas). in fact, he had the smallest part in this one out of all three. oh well. i guess it was still pretty good.


ha! just kidding, it was really good. go see it. it's a lot funnier than any of the other ones, but i'm not sure how intentional that is. some parts are just hella overacted. plus, they all die in the end, and how heartwarming is that? oooo spoiler!!! :P haha.

more evidence that my mom can't handle caffeine and that my sister is an idiot
so my sister calls me today and says "dad thinks i'm an idiot."
me: "why?"
frootz: "he asked me this morning if i knew who saddam hussein was. when i said yeah, he was like, 'oh. well they caught him today.'"

tonight my mom is totally hyper after eating coffee crunch cake, and she's cleaning out her purse.
mom: "why do i have all these pens that aren't mine?"
me: "um, cuz you're a thief?"
mom: "no, no, i was a thief, was a thief."

last thing. conversation between me and i love the jokester strikes back today:
freesia, after helping tom with his med school app.: "damn, i better be getting some tiffany's out of this." *dirty look from lisa* "kidding! kidding!"
me: "it's girls like you that make me wonder why i'm a lesbian."

damn you, vile sickness!
after weeks of wet pants cuffs and frozen fingers, i've finally caught a cold. luckily the campaign is over, but i hope i recover by next weekend or else i will be quite a miserable sight. but alcohol kills germs, right? :P old joke.

i spent the day with my mom and aunt at hillsdale, my secret shopping mall goldmine. i always find stuff there i can't find anywhere else. two things struck me as i fought off old grannies and annoying mallrats (NOTE: this is going to be an uncharacteristically [ha] shallow and more-stylish-than-thou rant, but what do you expect, i was at a mall, for chrissakes):
1) i don't understand what possesses people to firstly buy and subsequently wear certain items of clothing that they believe to be trendy to the mall. for example, jeans with hella straps on them. or those satin pants that are cinched at the bottoms. what goes through the minds of these people as they decide whether to purchase these things? i just don't understand. i'm all for taking fashion risks, but there are limits of taste! i mean, i see these things on sale at lots of stores, but i never thought anyone actually bought them, god forbid. (NOTE: i'm sure there are some of you out there who are going to say, "but, lisa, you've made some rather atrocious fashion mistakes, too -- camoflage capris? the fake hair? the pleather phase? that scarf that you wore as a top? that hawaiian skirt that you swore got shorter each time you wore it? and those crocodile stiletto boots that you couldn't walk in, so you made billy and bruce carry you instead, and had tommie hold them for you and someone accused him of stealing them?" to you, i say: "play 'wheels on the bus,' and get out of my face!....and the scarf top was hella cute!")
2) there were tons of couples at the mall today. TONS. how do these (totally unfashionable, i might add) people get together? how? HOW?! you ever stare at couples and think, how does she have a boyfriend and I don't? probably not, since you're probably not as spiteful or petty as i am. or you haven't admitted it to yourself yet. these are the things i think about when i go to the mall. that, and where's the claire's?

obviously, being sick has put me in quite a mood. back to family guy.

best chow fun in san francisco: north hollywood cafe, on pacific below grant, in chinatown. thank me later.

so tomorrow is the big day. i will be very sad if matt doesn't win, but i know that this is just the beginning. there were some tremendous coalitions formed because of this campaign, and either way, it is a major sign that a shift is happening in the city. the people are sick and tired of bullshit corrupt politicians who fuck over our beautiful city by building more goddamn lofts to attract the white yuppies; who support police who beat up innocent residents and then cover it up; who want to take money away from the most disenfranchised sector of the population, the homeless, and who actually want to throw them in jail because, you know, their lives aren't hard enough already; who make backroom deals to protect their interests and their money; who want to put more police in our schools because we need SF high schools to become even MORE of a police state. god, i'm so sick of all of it sometimes, and it makes me actually want to cry to see what this city, my city has become.

there are two huge issues at work in this mayor's race that neither candidate wants to talk about directly, the elephants in the room that no one wants to mention. those two issues are race and class, of course. the city is ground-zero for racial issues, which is what issues like homelessness, affordable housing, education, minimum wage, and police brutality are. these issues are inherently racial in nature, although no one wants to say "race" in front of a camera or on a mailer. this election is also the sign of the beginning of an era of class warfare in the city--the rich are for newsom, the working class are for gonzalez. it's that simple. the rich like that newsom will protect their money, since he has money. he's the supervisor for the richest district in the city--district 2, pacific heights (aka "specific whites"), north beach, sea cliff, marina. that district makes me sick. these are no ordinary white people--these are WHITE PEOPLE, with beamers, coiffed hair, white cashmere, range rovers, louis vuitton bags, with their fucking bougie union street boutiques, and starbucks. these people are not my san francisco. these people are about as far away from my san francisco as you can get. we, the people of The City, only tolerate these yuppie scum because we have to. they remind us that there is a whole other world outside of our wonderful little utopia, a world that hates us as much as we hate them, and tolerates us only to park their cars, clean their houses, watch their children, empty their trashcans.

the matt gonzalez campaign was a revolt against this group, which has controlled san francisco for way too long. the workers for matt are old and young, gay and straight, black, latino, asian, artists, workers. they are san francisco. they stand alone on intersections in isolated parts of the city in the pouring rain at dusk, with a sign on a stick and a poncho. they bike through the streets with a handwritten cardboard sign on their back that reads "ask me about matt gonzalez for mayor!" they hold 30 parties in 30 days to raise money for matt, since newsom has outspent them ten-to-one (yet gonzalez still leads by two points in the polls). they walk through the streets of the most dangerous districts in the city, visatacion valley and bayview/hunter's point, just two young asian american females, armed only with a clipboard of names and a totebag of flyers, going door to door and educating chinese and pilipino voters on why they, the hardworking, low-income asian americans, should vote for him. they do it for free, some of them, and some of them do it without even the campaign HQ knowing about it. this is a real grassroots movement the likes of which san francisco has not seen in years.

the change is coming--there's nothing anyone can do to stop it. you can feel it vibrating through the seven hills of san francisco, through the streets. you're either in or you're out. it starts here, it starts now. whether or not matt wins is not extremely significant. the working class of san francisco--along with every other person who loves this, the greatest city in the world--are going to take their city back, if nothing else. fuck bush, fuck arnold, fuck newsom. tell your sister, tell your brother, tell your mom and dad, tell any family you have in san francisco. get them to the polls. vote matt gonzalez tomorrow and vote for change in san francisco.

I though of that old joke, y'know, the, this, this guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, "Doc, uh, my brother's crazy. He thinks he's a chicken." And, uh, the doctor says, "Well, why don't you turn him in?" And the guy says, "I would, but I need the eggs." Well, I guess that's pretty much how I feel about relationships. Y'know, they're totally irrational and crazy and absurd and, but, uh, I guess we keep going through it because, uh, most of us need the eggs.--annie hall

a long december
three things:
1) please everyone save saturday december 20th for me. i'm thinking of doing some sort of bar-with-music fete in sf. more info and evite to come. my birthday always falls at the shittiest time--friends from school are back in socal and friends from home are not yet back from socal, it's the week before xmas so everyone's stressed, hella people aren't 21 yet, friends from cal don't want to go to sf, and friends from sf don't want to go to berkeley, not to mention all that east coast-west coast, 50 cent-ja rule, tupac-biggie drama. damn. so mah fahn. you must MUST come out and parlay if you're anywhere in the bay, it'll be fun, i personally guarantee excitement... ;)

2) i have no game.

3) freesia: "my bed is so far from the wall i feel like it's gonna just fly off somewhere."
me: "to the island of naboo?"
(anyone besides jokester who can name that reference gets hella props!)

more madness from home
me, to my mom, as my dad walks by: "you and dad are twins! you guys are wearing the same fleece! it's the exact same thing, but in different colors! how cute..."
laurie, looking at me from the floor, totally deadpan: "me too."
me, looking at her and jumping back: "AH! OH MY GOD!"
laurie: "you should put one on, too. join the club."

i live in a house of fleece insanity.

snippet of conversation from the household:
laurie (holding up a cup used for urine tests) to my mom: "you want to keep this?"
mom: "yes."
lisa: "what's that?"
mom: "a urine cup."
lisa: "for what??"
mom: "urine."
mom: "such a silly question."

fin.

i wish i could send this to every man and woman i know, but i guess this will have to do.

Can men become attracted to women who aren't their physical ideal?

*this works for women and their male physical ideal as well

excerpt:
I don't think it's about waiting for him to superimpose his mental picture of the cheerleader over your face. You have to break through his billboard and wake him up. There is a place where men and women meet that is so deep there are no billboards anymore, there is just the desert sky and a scary howling that you're not even sure is coming from you or him, it's so animal.

Yes, many men get hard over skinny hips and big tits. Big deal.

What you're after is the ideal, where physical love becomes this transcendent thing, where a man is really loving the woman. Yes, her body, but not just her body, in her body but not just in her body, the woman but not just the woman -- the hair, the eyes, the sweat, the fold of flesh, the memories, the voice, the idea of her, the person she is, the things they've done, the wounds they've given, the food they've eaten, the walks they've taken, like falling to their deaths the whole thing flashes before them, and that's the ultimate thing, that's where in that moment it would be so silly for him to think, gee, I wish she weighed 3 pounds less, I wish I could see her hipbones, I wish her ribs were showing, that would really turn me on. How absurd for a man in love, so enraptured with this woman that loving her is the same as loving his own life. Think how odd that would be. But then the rush always wears off and he thinks I have to pay the parking meter or whatever did happen to that one blue sock I used to like so much ... but that's after the rush wears off. Your body didn't prevent you from getting to that precious few moments near the sun.

How you get there, where you are lost to the world with your soul mate, where you aren't even one person anymore exactly, but just this exploded citizen of the sun, this bell set ringing by her blow, her tap, her fist, her knock, when you're just this ancient eternal force of life with no need even for an ego, who needs an ego when you're already eternal, you've kicked off the shoes, you're a barefoot corpse laughing at the autopsy, you're there, you've arrived in your sweetie's arms and that's where you're staying even when they wheel you back into your dark little chamber. Where am I going with this? What am I saying? I'm saying that the mystery of attraction lies not in a visit to the Size 5-7-9 Shop. There's something overwhelming out there and it's not about your measurements. It's waiting for you. He might have it in his house, who knows? It might be lying in his heart just waiting for you. It might be hidden in an ironic laugh and a plate of spaghetti. There might be a ring involved. There might be a ceremony with lots of white. Or there might be a drunken misunderstanding, a walk through a storm, tears washing down your face with the rain. But it's not about the length of your femur and your percentage of body fat. It's about this thing that happens between people when they lose themselves.

Life is short. Maybe he's the one. Get some courage. Shake him up. If he likes you and he's not doing anything about it, maybe he's sleepwalking. Take his book away and see if he wakes up. Put a plate of food in front of him and see if he eats. Roll him over and scratch his belly. Find out what gives.

i've been looking especially bad these past few days--tired, ragged, dark circles, pallid, just not cute all in all. matt, what are you doing to me? i've cut my coffee habit down to one a day, and i'm sleeping a decent amount. nutrition is pretty good, too, and i'm not smoking anymore. so what the fuck?? maybe i'm vicariously experiencing finals through my friends. or, even scarier, maybe after years and years of finals, my body has actually programmed itself to be stressed at this time of the year. or maybe it's just the rain and cold and blah.

two apps due in two weeks = not so fun, and i have to write a new statement of purpose for berkeley. try fitting why you want to go to grad school in 500 words. or, try fit "career goals" in three lines: I want to write for an alternative weekly for a few years, then work in the nonprofit sector in the areas of civil rights, community development, or women's issues before pursuing a Masters or PhD in Ethnic Studies. Then, I'd like to travel for research on my nonfiction book about Asian diaspora in Western Europe, and have a torrid international affair with a devastatingly handsome cosmopolitan jetsetter artist, which will be fodder for my novel. We would reinvigorate the expatriate artists/writer colonies in Europe and/or Asia and redefine the style and culture of our time. I would then return to the States and write the long-awaited screenplay with Chrissy and Freesia. With our fame and money, we would finally start our own magazine in New York City, which we would promote in the press by playing up our mixed racial heritages. I would live in the Village with my filmmaker boyfriend who will direct my screenplay. I would like to retire in San Francisco with my witty intellectual professor significant other and have the journalism room, hell, why not an entire wing of Lowell named in my honor."

GRoOVe roBber (7:00 PM): ok I know I'm a dork, but you gotta appreciate this achievement:
GRoOVe roBber (7:01 PM): I've cleaned my inbox out after like 6-7 months
GRoOVe roBber (7:01 PM): and now I only have FIVE messages in my inbox!
GRoOVe roBber (7:01 PM): F I V E !
GRoOVe roBber (7:02 PM): ok, relatively clean compared to you junk hoarders
lisa n da sky (7:02 PM): you're a hoar.
GRoOVe roBber (7:02 PM): but the last few months i've been at like 70-80 messages
lisa n da sky (7:02 PM): it's not like whoever has the cleanest inbox wins the race
GRoOVe roBber (7:02 PM): and it bothered the fuck outta me!
lisa n da sky (7:02 PM): yeah you're anal like that
GRoOVe roBber (7:03 PM): YEESSSSS IT ISSSS!!!
GRoOVe roBber (7:03 PM): yeah, yeah.
lisa n da sky (7:03 PM): it's not like whoever has the least amount of emails in their inbox when they die gets a better place in heaven
lisa n da sky (7:03 PM): IT'S NOT
GRoOVe roBber (7:03 PM): that's what jesus told me.
lisa n da sky (7:03 PM): how many emails did he have in his inbox when he died?
GRoOVe roBber (7:03 PM): cleanliness is next to godliness...y'know- like jesus.
GRoOVe roBber (7:04 PM): jesus had mad PEN1S ENL*RGEMENT e-mails he never got to trash.
GRoOVe roBber (7:05 PM): that's the first thing he'll take care of after his resurrection and stuff.
lisa n da sky (7:05 PM): sam, you know you should save some of those
lisa n da sky (7:05 PM): maybe look into it
lisa n da sky (7:05 PM): OOOOOOOOOOO
GRoOVe roBber (7:05 PM): OOOHHH!!!

gems from the hardboiled story editor applications
these are all actual responses:

3. in your opinion, what is the most important issue relevant to the asian pacific american community?
-not enough hardboiled being read on campus
-asian ghetto ( i prefer "ethnic encleave" ) not providing a wide variety. There's like 4 Thai resturants within a block. And students get confused with Yokonama Station and fake Japanese resturant next door.
-there's not a consistency with how bobas are made.
-white [racist] people.

4. what experiences in the past do you think would qualify you for this position?
-i am an asian american
-i have issues
-i drink

5. what other activities and/or organizations (community, student, etc.) are you involved in and will you be holding any leadership positions? will you have enough time for hb?
-well i'm done with the fraternity crap. I guess i could break up with my gf. but she's not really very time consuming. Having a gf is like taking a 5 unit class with a discussion period afterwards. and I kinda like her. and besides, she's white so i can garner her thoughts and let the APAs know what her people think of my people. (poor susie!!)

2. yeah, so then what exactly is "asian pacific american" identity?
There is no APA identity, stereotypes are what contribute to this idea of an "APA" identity. You might expect me to say something like community, or pride, but we must realize there are different APAs just as there are different people. Also if this is some sort of trick question attempting to get me into a self-stereotype you didn't get me.

9. which other publications do you read (school pubs, magazines,
newspapers, etc.)
I read the sports section of the Daily Cal and do the crossword puzzle

in retrospect i should have eaten more cupcakes.
thanksgiving weekend was a busy little thing, considering that my family celebrated it two weekends ago. friday i i didn't have to work, yet i resisted the magnetic force that drives every person on earth downtown to go shopping the day after thanksgiving. instead i went to haight with kimi and then had a bite to eat at crepes on cole. there are some cute guys on haight street, man. too bad they automatically lose cool points by just being on haight street. haight was so high school. anyways, that night i finally saw chizu, who i haven't seen in almost a year, and we had dinner with jokester at naan n curry on irving. i cannot handle the spicy food, yo, i am PILIPINO. i was sweating all over the place.

we met up with crys and jen at rosewood, this bar on broadway near the broadway tunnel. it's so underground that there's no sign in front. i went there with jaime a while ago, and the crowd was pretty white/tourist/business casual, but this time it was cool. the place is a nice lounge with a dj playing good music (hard to find) and cute guys (even harder to find) who all have girlfriends (big shocker). the dj friday played this tupac mix that had all the fave tupac songs ("how do you want it," "california love," "i get around," "all bout u") oh it was so hot. hands in the air!! and hella white girls knew ALL the words to tupac.

saturday was a tiring day of work and then off to regan's for her birthday. we had a bunch of drinks, cupcakes, and pie at her place and then rallied the whole group to go to the hush hush lounge, a bar with dancing on valencia and 14th. it was a cool place, good music, young and mixed crowd. someone commented on how the crowd was indie, but the music was hip-hop, which is the ultimate sign that indie is now a style totally independent of music.

i had to be at work today at 10 am, so i'm so. utterly. tired.

for four years, between senior year of high school to our third year of college, my high school crew had a thanksgiving potluck at crystal's house. called "phat potluck," this was no small affair: we spent frenzied nights making lists of who we would invite (mostly friends from high school), figuring out who would be calling who (this was before evite), what we were going to bring, and most important of all, what we were going to wear. there was usually a good turnout. the largest ones were the first two. we judged the success of the party on the size of the pile of shoes in front of crystal's door, and for the first two years, the shoe pile was so big that we took pictures of it.

friends of various intimacy levels would drift in and out of the rooms, chatting, eating, laughing. boys would invariably be congregated downstairs playing video games. upstairs would be filled with people picking from the table laden with food in the dining room or talking in the living room. crystal's windows would be fogged up from the heat in the room. random people were thrown together to nibble, make conversation, and have a few laughs. there was the soccer team, the school newspaper folk, shield and scroll members, friends from college who went to different high schools in SF, current and former love interests, current and former boyfriends, my sister even stopped by one year.

and of course there was us, "the math wing crew," the nucleus. crystal, our wonderful hostess, would be running around the place, always decked out in an eye-catching outfit and complicated makeup. freesia would be sitting somewhere, flirting with her current crush and attempting to appear nonchalant in front of her past crush at the same time. loni would be making fun of someone, elani would be trying hard to chat up the outsiders, kristin would be telling a crazy story, nina, chizu, ali, kat, the whole crew would be there, adding a different element to the party.

in the last few years, the number of guests has dwindled--people lose touch, friends come and go, there were college and familial commitments, study abroad, and we stopped inviting people much further beyond our core group. finally, two years ago, our beloved tradition came to an end.

it's hard to imagine that we had such a great time without any alcohol. but times change. this year ali, kat, rich, frees and i celebrated being together again by going to 26 mix, a bar in the mission. it was almost completely empty, but the drinks were $2, and the jukebox and pool tables were free. we racked up a bunch of games, numerous rum and cokes, gin and tonics, and an entire glass of really good snack mix. i had so many drinks i lost count, but i suspect i doubled my magic number last night. it was almost unspoken that we would be going to seniore's on 19th and taraval after the bar. we picked up our pizza, and invited ourselves over to crystal's, more out of the necessity to pee than desire to see crystal. crystal patiently let us in, and we stuffed our faces and watched LOTR with her downstairs. i couldn't help but think with nostalgia of thanksgivings past, when the room would be filled with bodies. but at the same moment, i was so thankful for what i had: my very best friends from high school (and still fairly close today), all in the same room, drunk and gorging ourselves on greasy food, watching the movie that we had so much fun watching together a year ago. it was hands down the happiest i've been in months. i think i forget how much i truly love my friends and how happy they make me because i see them so infrequently. phat shoe pile or no, those are my girls.

The Sounds kick so much ass!

freestyln2 (12:48 AM): i'm stealing internet
lisa n da sky (12:49 AM): from farmer fitzgibbon?
freestyln2 (12:49 AM): yes
lisa n da sky (12:49 AM): OMG THAT WAS THE BEST SECRET OF NIMH REFERENCE EVER
lisa n da sky (12:49 AM): did you get it?
freestyln2 (12:49 AM): lol
freestyln2 (12:49 AM): yeah
freestyln2 (12:49 AM): only lisa....
lisa n da sky (12:49 AM): GOOD I'M SO HAPPY NOW
freestyln2 (12:50 AM): lol
lisa n da sky (12:50 AM): if you didn't get that
lisa n da sky (12:50 AM): it would have been the most wasted reference in history

later on....

lisa n da sky (1:00 AM): i still can't get over how good that nimh reference was
lisa n da sky (1:00 AM): yo add that to your netflix
freestyln2 (1:00 AM): i saw that not that long ago
lisa n da sky (1:01 AM): i thought it was so cool how the animals had realistic names
lisa n da sky (1:01 AM): like justin and jonathan
lisa n da sky (1:01 AM): and nicodemus
freestyln2 (1:01 AM): ah yeah.. nicodemus... i can't believe how many nicodemuses i know... it's ridiculous
lisa n da sky (1:02 AM): yeah my one friend nicodemus
lisa n da sky (1:02 AM): there were too many in our crew
lisa n da sky (1:02 AM): so i nicknamed him
lisa n da sky (1:02 AM): jeff

GO BEARS!

streakbreaker
finally got back to the thing i do best on a saturday night: going out and drinking in the city.

it has become as cold as a bastard here over the past week, like really really cold. so what else is there to do but drink? regan, biff, and i started the night out at the elbo room on valencia where the drinks are strong (i had an ocean beach iced tea, how awesome is that?) and the crowd is a good mix of everything. there was a hip hop show going on upstairs, and we watched two of the biggest fros i've ever seen walk in. when they eclipsed each other, we knew it was time to leave since i didn't have my sunglasses or a little box with a pinhole.

we braved the cold and shivered over to the make-out room a few blocks away, but after an irate patron told us it sucked inside, we went to a cute little cafe across the street. there were people playing chess at the sidewalk tables, and couples dancing to the jazz music played by the live band inside. something about cafes with live bands always gets me, especially when an upright bass and open storefront windows are involved. we took our glasses of sangria to the tables out front under the outdoor heaters, and got into a discussion with a studious looking man reading newsweek who overheard us toasting to "tha mish" and talking about tha mish, tha mo', tha 'stro, and tha 'set. "are you guys serious?" he asked us, incredulous. obviously not a native.

pretty drunk at this point, i had a craving for some sausage (insert your own joke here. ooo look how witty you are. don't say this blog isn't interactive...). biff knew a good place on haight near fillmore, so we went over there, but ended up at movida lounge since the sausage place was closed. regan inexplicably ordered a pitcher of sangria, so we had to finish it of course, and proceeded to get smashingly drunk. still yearning for the sausage, we orbited back to biff's where she cooked me a nice plate of sausage, brie, and french bread, which i concluded to be the best meal i've ever had in my life. i was too drunk to drive home, so i crashed at biff's, and any night that i don't spend in my own bed is overall a successful one, in my opinon.

because blogspot doesn't have that fancy "currently reading" or "currently listening to" feature like xanga or livejournal, here's a makeshift version:

currently reading: "the sun also rises" by ernest hemingway and "pedagogy of the oppressed" by paulo freire
currently listening to: "dead ringer," rjd2; "greatest hits," bjork; "chutes too narrow," the shins
currently DVDing: family guy season 1
current decision i'm standing behind: not going to school in boston next semester
current grad school applications i'm working on: berkeley, columbia, northwestern, and univ. of maryland
current job prospect: matt gonzalez's campaign
current domestic project: bringing winter clothes out of hibernation (where did all these sweaters come from?!)
current popular word: gadonkadonk
current favorite phrase (thanks biff!) : "well, God made it...so there must be some reason for it."
currently eating: homemade chocolate chip cookies
about to eat: crab dinner
currently wearing: jeans and sheer stretchy soft top
currently thinking: this blog has reached a new low.

fin.

kimi: "are you in the matrix?"
ali: "are you in the matrix?"

i have this long black coat from h&m that goes all the way to my ankles. it's thick, and waterproof, and comes with a detachable hood, and is sort of like wearing a sleeping bag. i bought it for about 50 quid (~$75) within the first month that i got to england. my friend jane bought the exact same one the first week we were there, when we were still at orientation in london. i thought i'd hold out to see if i really needed it. little did i know how much that jacket would be with me.

jane and i would sometimes wear our jackets together at the same time, and we'd look like the matrix, with our jackets flowing out behind us. i wore it everywhere, especially during the winter months, but also well into spring. it was the only surefire way to stay warm. for the first time in my life, i took advantage of coat check at clubs--we all wore our clubbing outfits underneath and then shed our coats once we were indoors. it was only a quid or two, and well worth it to stay warm while standing in the queue outside or waiting for a taxi.

i had never before owned, and probably never will, a coat that warm. i mean, i lived in mild san francisco, where we have one temperature all year-round--foggy. a coat that heavy is never needed. sherwynn always joked about having a coat-burning party once we got back to the states, as a way of forgetting about all time we spent wearing them, to purge ourselves of the memories of freezing cold england.

if you look at my pictures from my year abroad, the coat is ubiquitous--venice, rome, edinburgh, paris. everywhere. i used it as a blanket more than a few times while sleeping in hostels and run-down bed and breakfasts. but i also have local memories of the coat. i remember wearing it when we'd walk 20 minutes from our flats to the cinema (save our money on a cab, and faster than the bus) to see 3 pound movies (about $5--so cheap!!) or to tesco to buy groceries, which were so heavy and burdensome for the walk back (we finally got wise and brought our backpacks). i remember the cold, cold walks to the library or to campus or to sherwynn and michele's flat just across the vale. i remember eating balti with the girls, or sunday roasts, after which we didn't have to eat for the entire rest of the day. i miss full english breakfasts--fried tomato, bacon, sausage, mushrooms, fried eggs, and tea. i miss 99 pence pints, or 1 pound vodka shots, i miss blackthorn, snakebites, that cinammon-flavored shot, all the various drinks that were so goddamn cheap. the clubs where it was free to get in, or very cheap if you were a student, clubs that were swankier than any i've been to in the u.s., besides maybe d.c., but even then, the nicest d.c. club can't touch the dodgiest uk one. i miss all the cheese music that we sang along to, and the lovely british lads that could dance together in groups without it being a reflection on their sexuality. god, i miss my own room.

i actually wore my coat a few days ago to tart with ali and kimi. it was freezing cold that night, but somehow it just wasn't the same at all. here's to england, and hopes for more adventures with my long black coat.

macs what.

while you're pondering whether or not there is much more to life besides queer eye ten-hour marathons, check this out. some highlights:

"Holidae In" by Chingy (featuring Ludacris and Snoop Dogg)
Yes, Chingy is having a little get-together at the Holiday Inn, and he's invited Luda, Snoop, you and four of your friends. "What we gon' do?" asks the backup singer. "Feel on each other," says Snoop, "and sip on some Hen." Good times!

I don't know who the fuck Chingy is, but the guy knows how to throw a party. Even Ludacris is excited about it -- "For shizzle dizzle, I'm on a track with the Big Snoop Dizzle!" -- and when Ludacris gets excited, you'd better hide your vagina.

.......
"Here Without You" by 3 Doors Down

Listening to this song forces me to ask some difficult "What if?" questions. For instance: What if I met the woman who seemed to be the love of my life, and what if, just as we were about to consummate our love, she reached for her CD player remote control and switched on this song by 3 Doors Down?

It's not a question of whether or not I'd still be able to make love to her. Obviously, I wouldn't have the ability. My penis would immediately drain itself of blood, and once it had run out of blood, it would begin to drain itself of erectile tissue and veins and skin until there was nothing left but a shallow cavity above my testicles. No, the vital question is, Could my love for her survive? And the answer is no. No, it couldn't.

.....

Memo to the East Side Boyz, YoungBloodZ and other rising hip-hop stars: Pluralizing your Z's really isn't that cool. It's actually sort of dumb. In fact, the only way 3 Doors Down could possibly be worse as a band would be if they were called 3 Doorz Down.

baby, here i am, i'm a girl on the scene
soul is making a comeback: i'm really diggin' "got to give it up" by marvin gaye and "hard to handle" by patti drew. i think it's a sign that it's time to dust off the ole gadonkadonk (i've got a chinese bootie, according to cherry). shake that thang, miss cana-cana....

recent epiphanies:
1) it's difficult to meet really cool, interesting people, especially after college.
2) i am a magnet for cliche-ridden guys.
3) when one person flakes, a chain of flaking materializes.
4) i look like jiminy cricket, which is just ironic since i have no conscience.
5) taboo is the new "it" game. fuck! one should never use "it" in quotes. very pretentious. FUCK! i just did it twice. dammit!

oh, and my doctor confirmed it today, for all you in doubt: "you've got a strong heart," he said, looking at the cardiogram. looking at your heart is a very surreal experience. i think you realize just how material you are--i mean, the body is just a bag of skin and bones. and this little muscle is the only thing that keeps that bag going. you realize that it doesn't matter how smart or witty you are, how attractive you are, if you're in love, or in agony, or depressed, or whatever. empirically, you are a mass of blood, water, skin, cells, whatever. and the heart runs the entire operation. and if that heart decides one day that it doesn't want to do that anymore, you're dead. and that's it. i tried to avoid any existential crisis while i stared at my heart pumping on the screen. in fact, it kind of looks like someone clapping in there, sort of funny. like i've got my own little in-studio audience in there, applauding me, egging me on. i should probably back up to why i was getting my chest felt up for a half an hour (not in the good way, you cheeky thing). i've got a musical heart, meaning i have a heart murmur. but i got a clean bill of health today; it's benign or "innocent." oh, but it's not that innocent, i told the doctor, ripping off my paper gown to reveal my red vinyl bodysuit. oops i did it again, i played with your heart, got lost in the game.... FUCK! this is the second time i've referenced that song in this blog, DEFINITELY not a good sign.

tony blair gets down to the darkness, shouldn't you?

i've been seeing a lot of movies lately, so i'll just summarize:
love, actually: you would need to have no heart at all to not say "awww!" at least once during this movie. i liked it a lot, but it's no four weddings or even bridget jones. such a date movie.
kill bill:loved it! but bring a barf bag if you have a delicate composition. great soundtrack.
runaway jury: yeah, this was a bad decision on my part, but freesia (or should i say....jokester?) suggested it. it was really predictable. i liked this movie the first four times i saw it, when it was called the firm, the client, the pelican brief, and the rainmaker.
bullets over broadway: very funny, john cusack plays against type, channels woody allen. "sex is economics!" supply and demand, i guess.
punch-drunk love: god, paul thomas anderson is a genius. so talented. i really liked this one. also liked that it wasn't half as long as magnolia, but still as good.

i saw matt gonzalez (sf mayoral candidate) at the bar last night!!! crazy shit. he was just sitting there talking to some blonde, and i was like "oh my god, is that matt gonzalez?!?" it was so cool! my friend wanted to challenge him to a game of pool, but i was too starstruck.

alright, that's all from here. over n out.

lisa's beginner's guide to nyc (for irene and all):

first, get a map. nyc is really easy--there's uptown (higher number streets) and downtown (lower number streets). streets go east to west (east streets are east of fifth ave., west streets are west of fifth ave.), avenues go north to south. avenue blocks are MUCH longer than street blocks, keep that in mind when planning your trips!!! make sure your subway map is up to date since they've made a lot of recent changes to subway lines.

bring good walking shoes, since you'll be doing lots of walking. also, bring your nicer clothes--everyone is really stylish and it's easy to feel like a grubby tourist everywhere you go. trust me, you won't look out of place in your nicer stuff.

not sure how long you're going to be there, but buying a subway day-pass (it might be called a funpass) is ALWAYS cheaper than buying individual rides.

things to def. do on your first trip to nyc:
museums:
-the met (be sure to see the temple of dendur, of "when harry met sally" fame); this place is really overwhelming, focus on what you want to see, you'll never hit it all
-the natural history museum is pretty nice, if you're into that stuff; if you're into modern art, go to the MOMA (it's in queens while the manhattan one is under renovation); the guggenheim is really cool (the building is a spiral), but expensive admission
-the lower east side tenement museum is off the beaten track, but i liked it. you get to tour actual tenements that they've renovated to look like how they were at the turn of the century. it's a good tour, you learn a lot about immigrants.

other tourist shit:
***must do***times square at night--will take your breath away. be like my friends who bought me one of those 100 sexual positions booklets for $1 there. go before 5 PM if you want to be on the street outside TRL (mtv studios are there, you can't miss it)
-central park--i like strawberry fields and the "imagine" mosaic (if you're a beatles fan); also check out "the mall" (pretty tree-lined walkway) and bethesda fountain (in lots of movies); lots of walking to be done in central park, don't go there if you're tired
-empire state building--i'm not a big views person, so i've never done this, but i've seen pics and it's very nice, though it looks really windy
-i'm not sure if you can go to the statue of liberty since 9/11. i think it's cool enough to see it from the ferry, instead of actually going up it. you can see it for free if you take the staten island ferry.
-chinatown--oh smelly chinatown. go and be with your peoples. shop for fake louis vuitton and kate spade purses on canal (good for gifts for friends back home), or get (my favorite) chinese slippers at pearl river mart (477 broadway), they have the best selection. also, canal is the place for fake rolexes and bootleg CDs and DVDs (the quality is usually pretty good). oh if you know chinese, haggle with them for lower prices, it works. chinatown is also the place you should buy all your souvenirs--you can buy 5 of those "i heart ny" shirts for like $5, and shotglasses, and everything is much cheaper in chinatown. EVERYTHING.
-rockefeller center--there's probably the ice skating rink and xmas tree up there by now. i've never seen it (never been in nyc in the winter), but i'm sure it's lovely. the nbc studio is nearby there, if you want to take the tour, it's pretty good, and also radio city hall is close for a photo op. while you're around there, i'd stop by the flagship h&m by there, i think it's on 55th, but you should double check (hm.com).
-south street seaport: shopping here is the usual chain stores (gap, jcrew, express, american eagle), but there's also a beautiful view of the brooklyn bridge (go at dusk, or at night, very romantic) if you go into the mall and find the patios at the back on the second or third floors. also eat a crab sandwich while you're there (see below).
-grand central station main hall--everything moves so fast!
-you'll probably want to do ground zero. i've never done it, it's a little too heavy for me, but you should go if you want to....

other famous movie/tv stuff:
-the seinfeld resturant is near columbia: broadway and 112th or so (you can look it up online), never ate there, i hear it's ok
-the when harry met sally "orgasm" scene was filmed in katz's deli (e. houston and ludlow st.), they've got great corned beef sanwiches, but PRICEY!

misc. hangouts:
-if you're into spoken word, the place to go is the nuyorican cafe in the east village. 236 e. third st. betw. ave. b and ave. c

shopping:
my favorite shopping stretch (not for the weak) is on broadway from around 21st ALL THE WAY DOWN to canal street. from 21st and broadway going downtown, you will pass jcrew (actually i think the jcrew is on 5th ave.), express, banana, nine west, express, victoria's secret, the strand bookstore (12th and broadway, the biggest used bookstore on earth, i swear), urban outfitters, virgin megastore in union square. below the virgin megastore, you'll hit the nyu area, where there are tons of shoe stores with good prices, a gap, a barnes and noble, nyu bookstore near washington square park. keep going until you get to houston (pronounced "house-ton"), and once you cross houston, you've entered soho, aka shopping heaven. if you stick on broadway, you'll hit zara, club monaco, dean and deluca (where's felicity?), more nine wests and victoria's secrets, the soho h&m, banana, old navy, steve madden, cute little boutiques, a cool store called yellow rat bastard. about h&m, my favorite one is probably the one at 34th street/herald square (i hear there are actually two there now). it's HUGE.
a funkier place for browsing used cds and funky accessories is st. mark's place. to get there, turn east when you see the gap on east 8th street and broadway, pass fourth and third aves, and you're there. you can eat at village mingala, a good burmese place while you're there (see below).

all this shopping is making me hungry! all these recommendations are cheap and good.
-ok you're tired and broke. get a hot dog special at gray's papaya (check online for locations). good cheap hot dogs.
-must have dunkin' donuts coffee, everyone drinks it there, and it's really good.
restaurants by area:
Union Square
Chat n' Chew: 10 e. 16th st., between union square and fifth ave., comfort food, good mac n cheese and coleslaw
Republic: on the west side of union square (37 union square west between 16th and 17th streets), a trendy, but only decent japanese noodle bar.
Yama: 122 E. 17th Street at Irving, this is the best sushi i've had in nyc

East Village/near NYU
Village Mingala--21 E. 7th st. between 2nd and 3rd aves, burmese food, get the mango salad as a starter, it's TO DIE FOR, noodle dishes and beef curry are also really good
Around the Clock--open all night, good food, typical american food cafe stuff
Veniero's--342 e. 11th street; old style dessert place, good cheesecakes, they close at midnight or 1 am on the weekends.
Dojo--24 st. mark's place between 2nd and 3rd aves., cheap cheap japanese food

West Village:
Moustache: middle eastern food, 90 bedford street, get the naan bread and ouzi, it's really good, very filling, share if you're not too hungry.

Near 34th Street/Herald Square:
Pongal: 110 Lexington Avenue, between east 27th and east 28th. good indian food, all vegetarian, the dosas are so good, they're big ass crepes filled with onions, rice, etc. whatever you want.

Chinatown:
Joe's Shanghai: 9 pell street, between bowery and mott. good dim sum, get the soup dumplings, so good. you'll probably share a table with other diners, it's popular with the tourists.
Nha Trang: 87 baxter street, get the steak cubes!!!!!!!!!!!!! vietnamese food, everything is good and cheap

South Street Seaport:
crab sandwiches at south street seaport, the best place is at this stall in the food court in the mall called "simply seafood". go to the top of the mall, it's at the end near the tables, get the soft shell crab sandwich with fries. SO GOOD. my mouth is watering right now.

new project for the rest of the month: writing my novel

intersections of life
23rd and clement
jackson and fillmore
eucalyptus drive
26th and taraval
irving and 7th
hearst avenue
haste between ellsworth and fulton
west 20th between 7th and 8th
116th and broadway
edgbaston road
rhode island and 17th
florida and 13th
amber drive
dartmouth street

people are always asking me for recommendations for cities i've lived in. new york city tops the list for most frequently asked questions, london comes in second, and san francisco a respectable third. i've become lisa.citysearch.com. i'm going to work on posting those recommendations here, so i don't have to keep re-writing the same email over and over.

i'm a city girl, always will be. i remember when lin waxed poetic about nature and scenery and foliage, i gave him the classic "what the fuck?" Lisa Look. lin is definitely a country mouse, god bless his pacific northwest-raised heart. i also don't understand the suburbs--i just don't understand them. it just doesn't process, you know? i can at least respect the mentality of people who come from places like the countryside, but not the suburbs. even the word itself indicates inferiority to the city: "sub-urban," meaning "below" or "lesser" urban. (note: for more on the origins of the san frnsiscan superiority complex, click here or here)

i have a ritual every time i move to a new city: i set a destination (usually a store or shopping district or museum), take a map, an umbrella, my walkman (tres 80s, i know), a bottle of water, and hit the streets. i like to explore the city on the first go by myself. i've got a pretty good sense of direction (and i'm the bomb parallel parker!....but i digress), and i don't like to be distracted by people who do not or who do not trust mine. plus i just like wandering around at my own pace, which is usually superfast. i'm a darty walker, as anyone who visited me in nyc can attest to.

i love love LOVE public transportation, especially subways and all their variations. taking public transportation and walking around the city by myself makes me feel like a native. there's also something so romantic (ho romantic-ahhh) about underground trains. all that confined space, close quarters, furtive glances. you can get a really good measure of the make-up of the city by the people who ride the subway. it's an awesome cross-section of people, without all the bourgeois riffraff who have cars.

i love the sound of cars whizzing by my window. i love the streetlights, i love the office buildings with inexplicable lights on late at night. i love the minimum wage workers who i ride the train with at 11 pm, on my way home, on their way to work. i love the pulsing, vibrating, throbbing intersections, seething with life during lunch hour. i love the fashion shows on the sidewalk. i love the food carts. i love times square, farragut square, trafalgar square, union square.

oh, and this is just for freesia:
freesia: whatever taiwan!
me: nice.
me: i don't think taiwan appreciates that...
freesia: yeah well..
freesia: what's taiwan done for me lately??

The New Choice
Shen later told a laden story: in 1998, APIRH conducted 12 focus groups with Asian and Pacific Islander women. "Many didn't know what 'pro-choice' meant. They didn't even know the political term was related to abortion. For whatever reason, the pro-choice movement did not connect to their lives," she recounted.

i like my men like i like my coffee: puerto rican!
gold star for first person who can identify what movie that quote is from (use the comments feature, people, it's there for a reason!).

i've been really into whiney boy music lately: gavin degraw, rufus wainwright, the shins. that sucks! guys need to fucking suck it up and be men. dammit. kidding, of course. i'm so not about machismo/patriarchy/male-domination/gender roles. but whining is really the last straw.

sometimes i see movies about artists/musicians/geniuses and i can't figure out how they are married and have children. how do these people have the time to cultivate a relationship and spend time with their families when their lives are so absorbed by their work? regan pointed out that people are just attracted to people who are intensely driven by something. i can definitely understand that; i think i've been there. but how do you separate the artist from the man? is it possible to do that? are they two different beings? can you stop yourself from falling into the trap of loving the artist instead of the man?

i guess it starts when you're young: you have crushes on celebrities, boy bands, teen tv stars. and then when you grow up a little, you want to find heroes. and then you actually start to meet heroes: people who are your age who are doing truly remarkable things. and they've got that thing, that fire inside, for lack of a better cliche. they're the most, the best, The (fill in the blank) that you've ever met. and you can't help but admire them.

maybe there's more than that. maybe there's that attraction, whether immediate or accumulated over time. you engage in passionate conversation, you see the spark in the person's eyes when discussing their life obsession, their voice elevates, they gesture with emotion. you see the flicker of worry on their face, unsure if they have overwhelmed you with things that they are immersed in at all moments of the day. you share your own ideas, passions, what makes you angry, what makes you laugh, your ambitions.

and there's this awesome moment that is difficult to catch, but so precious if you can notice it. you see the person integrating you into their schema of the world. you see them processing you as a whole person, bit by bit. of course they don't realize you are doing the exact same thing as well. but you are doing it too. and at that moment, you know there's going to be a lot more than this.

l.a. story
ever since i saw mulholland drive, i can't shake this creepy feeling whenever i visit l.a. there's just this kind of scary, sad, lonely, emptiness. it's like i keep expecting to see the man with the cowboy hat around the corner, or the little midget, or the scary nightclub singer, or *gasp,shiver* the blue box. and it's even worse because my past three visits have been in the winter, so there isn't even the nice weather to compensate for the eeriness. in fact, this time around it was cold as fuck.

nevertheless, i had a good time. we got in around 2 in the morning after a very fun ride down in regan's rickety oldsmobile. crystal and chris picked me up and we stayed up until 5 am catching up. saturday we met up with anne and went to the getty museum. the collection wasn't very spectacular, but the architecture was great. i wanted to do more cultural stuff this time around in l.a., since i realized that every time i've visited over the past four years, all i have done was shop and party like a rap star. there's nothing wrong with that, but i just feel like i don't know l.a. at all. anyways, that night we had dinner at a japanese curry place on sawtelle (thanks gloria), and then went to a bar called temple bar to see a really good hip hop band that a few of crystal's friends are in called ill again. we ended the night at sketchy's pad, watching 2 fast 2 furious, which, i'm sad to say, was not fast and i was the furious one for staying up to watch it instead of falling asleep like most of the others.

sunday we went to lacma (l.a. county museum of art), which has a really good collection of modern art. they had this funny exhibit on buddhism, and it felt like buddhism for dummies. there were these placards up, with like FAQs about buddhism: "what is the heart-mind?" "where is it?" "how big is the heart-mind?" that night we watched both the neverending story (i'm still traumatized from childhood) and shaolin soccer (so funny!). i think i made a comment about falcor being "so l.a." because he rocks the fur and the iridescent snakeskin at the same time. also, that pendant atreyu wears is pretty hot. accessories complete the outfit, right, carson?

monday regan picked me up, and we had lunch at this cute cafe in echo park, and i had a very l.a. sandwhich--brie and avocado. so good, but also so heavy. we then went to los feliz village and saw lost in translation. i think the jury is still out on this one. i did like it, but i'm not like mad jocking it, like a lot of other people. maybe i need to mull it over a little more. i think my main gripe is that the whole "japanese are quirky" thing got a little old, and that just wasn't that funny in the first place. i guess it's true that you have to leave your politics at the door when you watch movies or else you will never enjoy any movie. but yes the director did a great job of evoking a certain mood, and i think there are a lot of subtle moments, and it raises a lot of issues about the random nature of relationships and loneliness and solace.

goals for this week:
1) find a job (ha.)
2) begin attending yoga classes or a gym
3) finish reading "the namesake"
4) get a bunch of clothes hemmed/altered/tricked out by kindly chinese lady at neighborhood alterations shop/sweatshop

iTunes: lots of stuff by The Shins; "are you gonna be my girl?" by jet (i know they did a iPod commercial, but so?); "for you" by duncan sheik; "roses" (THE JAM!) and "she's alive" by outkast; anyone have the new rufus wainwright or new travis cds and want to burn me a copy??