What I Don’t Miss About the Holidays

These people, who was I trapped between for a flight from Burbank to New York.

See, she needed the aisle because she constantly had to pee. That’s what she told me when I sat down. He needed the window because he wanted to take pictures. That’s what I figured out when he couldn’t stop taking pictures of the wing. What they failed to mention was that they were going to yell at each other the entire flight. Here, they argue over an incredibly fragrant breakfast burrito.

Keeping Up Tradition

Same place, same day, new year, new terminal. Thankful for the things that stay the same, grateful for the things that are new.

Hmm. I did have a picture taken from last year’s Jet Blue post-Xmas flight, but now I remember I never got to post it, as a woman sitting at the table next to me struck up a conversation and we ended up eating lunch together, swapping stories of love and romance. One thing I’ve definitely inherited from my mother is whatever it is that causes strangers to want to intensely bond for about an hour and then disappear forever.

Happy holidays, everybody. Hope your days are filled with love.

I Love Tele… Jet Blue

Jet Blue.

I am the last person, I’m sure, to say this, but it’s true. Jet Blue. It’s the only way to fly. This is because it picks me up in practically my backyard and drops me off in New York City and the five hours between that time it spends distracting me so much I don’t even notice I’m flying. That’s very nice. It distracts me with the little map that tells me where my plane is, how fast it’s going and how high up we are. And then it distracts me with SO MANY CHANNELS. I’ve never been so happy to have cable. Read more

fur and feet

I wore a new sweater today, and it shed everywhere I went. I first wore it a couple of days ago, and I thought the little grey hairs on everything I owned were due to Taylor hanging out around my bag, which he does sometimes. But today I wore it all day and it was clear — the sweater was leaving pieces of me everywhere. Read more

dropping in

I am at a hair salon, the one I go to on Sunset, and while I’m waiting to take these pieces of foil out of my head, I decided to open my computer.

Here, at the salon, I have wireless. It is times like this when I don’t understand why people fear technology. Read more

not funny ha-ha.

There’s this guy who hangs out at our local coffeeshop. He’s one of our regular crazies. I mean this as affectionately as possible, as he’s an endearing form of crazy. He’s small and heavily tattooed in tiny little self-made, prison-looking blue symbols. There’s writing on his knuckles, a tiny tattoo in the corner of his hairline, and writing up his forearms. He wears baggy white pants, a large beige windbreaker, and carries pieces of paper with him. He enters the shop, always giggling, head ducked down and bobbing occasionally, as if agreeing with himself. He’ll take a seat and write for hours at a time. He keeps laughing and nodding, scribbling and agreeing with himself. He is, for some reason, usually sweating. He’ll occasionally go outside for a cigarette, stubbing it out carefully under on the bottom of his shoe, before coming back in to sit and work on his scribblings for a while. Read more

on the way home.

[scripty]
EXT. LOS ANGELES STREET — DAY

A YOUNG WOMAN WAITS AT THE CROSSWALK, FIDDLING WITH HER PURSE, LOST IN THOUGHT. A YOUNG, ATTRACTIVE, AFRICAN-AMERICAN MAN APPROACHES HER. HE’S HOLDING A PIECE OF PAPER AND A PENCIL, LIKE HE HAS BEEN INTERRUPTED.

MAN
I just saw you in the bookstore, and I wanted to come out here… I never do this… and I don’t mean anything by this, I just had to tell you… you are a beautiful woman.

WOMAN
Oh! Thank you.

SHE TUCKS BACK HER HAIR, LOOKS HIM OVER AND IS SURPRISED AT HOW NORMAL HE LOOKS, AS THIS NEVER HAPPENS TO HER WITH SOBER STRANGERS.

MAN
No, really. I just… I had to tell you. Just so, I don’t know why I had to tell you. But I did. I needed to. You needed to know. Not that… I don’t know.

WOMAN
Thanks.

MAN
What’s your name?

WOMAN
Pam.

SHE THINKS: SHOULD HAVE SAID “PAMELA.” SOUNDS MUCH PRETTIER. WHY DOES IT MATTER? IT DOES.

MAN
I’m Christopher.

WOMAN
Nice to meet you.

THE LIGHT TURNS GREEN. SHE STEPS ONTO THE CURB.

MAN
Uh, hey! Where are you from?

WOMAN
I live around here.

SHE DOESN’T. BUT IT SOUNDS BETTER THAN “I’M MARRIED.”

WOMAN (cont)
Have a nice day, Christopher. And thanks.

MAN
I live around here too! Maybe I’ll see you.

WOMAN
Bye.

FLASHBACK

INT. CROWDED HOLLYWOOD MOVIE THEATER — THAT MORNING

THE YOUNG WOMAN IS WATCHING A TRAILER. THE STRANGER NEXT TO HER NUDGES HER ELBOW.

STRANGER
(GESTURING TO SCREEN)
I worked on that.

WOMAN
Hey, congratulations!

THE TRAILER CHANGES TO ONE WITH A SERIOUSLY HOT BRUNETTE WOMAN TAKING OFF HER BRA. THE WOMAN NUDGES THE MAN.

WOMAN
That’s me.

THE STRANGER HOLDS UP HIS FIST FOR HER TO DAP. SHE PUNCHES IT LIGHTLY.

END OF FLASHBACK

INT. CORNER STORE – A FEW MINUTES LATER

THE CASHIER INCORRECTLY RINGS UP THE WOMAN’S PURCHASE. IT SAYS $0.71.

WOMAN
I’ll take it!

CASHIER
Oh, ha-ha! I see you have the money, though.

THEY STARE AT THE CASH IN HER HAND.

WOMAN
Looks like I do.

MAN
Tell you what. You keep coming here, and if you ever don’t have enough, I’ll give it to you for seventy-one cents.

WOMAN
Oh.

MAN
I’m serious. Today you have the money, but you might not tomorrow. And that’s when you can just take it. For you. Just promise to come back and see me again.

WOMAN
Well, thank you.

WOMAN WALKS BACK TO HER CAR WONDERING, “WHAT THE HELL? THIS STUFF NEVER HAPPENS TO ME. MARRIAGE SURE DOES MAKE YOU ATTRACTIVE TO OTHER PEOPLE. EITHER THAT, OR I MUST REMEMBER TO WEAR THIS HOT PINK TANK TOP EVERY DAY FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.”
[/scripty]

zenophobia

I met a man over the weekend who lives in a Zen Buddhist retreat. I think he’s technically a monk. He’s the kind of guy who had major life changes and then moved away, found inner peace, and now lives off of next to nothing in a remote, self-containing, life-affirming, meditation-and-chanting sort of way.

In other words, the kind of person I find fascinating, yet would never, ever want to be. I started asking him questions. Read more

Three Stories

LA Story

I felt my first real earthquake today. I mean one where I knew an earthquake was about to hit and then it did. I sat through lots of earthquakes when I lived in Palm Springs as a kid, but I don’t really remember them. We lived above the laundry facility at a hotel, so we often thought it was the machines rumbling when it was actually a quake.

One happened when Dan first moved here to LA, but I was drying my hair at the time and thought Ray was doing some dumb-ass shit underneath the apartment. By the time I realized the world was shaking, the earthquake had finished. Read more