January 1st, 2005

dali

it was a punk rock new years.

So i was at this party in long beach ... talking to some people, hanging on michael because crowds scare me. A tall, greying guy walks in the front door with a younger blonde in an odd sweater. I note nothing of it until a the host's friend leans over to me and whispers, "ryan invited him, but he's always so surprised when Greg Ginn shows up at one of these parties."

*blinkblink*

I just got home from a new year's party with Greg Ginn.
Call me a dork (i am), but that's my kind of celebrity ... the guy who i have listened to for the last eleven years, whose band's symbol is marked on everything that was near me when i was bored in high school, was at the party i was at, in my friend's living room. And i played it cool, and tried not to stare, and didn't do anything uber-nerdy like ask for his autograph or anything, but i was awed.

I also ran into an old friend from back when i was a Chain Reaction band junkie. Ron Martinez, the singer for Final Conflict (it's okay, you don't have to pretend to know who they were) and the booker for punk shows at chain, was in the kitchen when i went looking for beer. It took me a minute to recognize him, as it was so out of place ... Mary's kitchen ... Ron ... this does not compute ...

Turns out he lives very close to Mary and Tim, and hangs out there sometimes. We spent a good part of the party catching up on old times. His girlfriend wants to cut my hair and have me be a "hair model" for her. It was sweet ... she walked off for a moment, and he turns to me and says, "i want to marry that girl". it was an "awww" moment.




And the vandals played baghdad. It was amusing to hear this on KNX on the way home from the party, the serious announcer-type saying, "The soldiers were treated to such punk rock tunes as 'Anarchy Burger' and 'Oi to the World'" ... you could just hear him trying to keep a straight face.




not a bad party. crappy day, crappy new year, little hope left, and my tears illustrated in mascara lines down my face, but hey, the party was good. and i have pictures.

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So Matty is building me a new computer. I've been using the one at my mom's, but i really hate being stuck at home without any interweb access. i feel so isolated. plus my semi-functional cell phone, and the fact that i don't have anyone to call anyway. and if i did, i never have anything to say.

I just need to get him my hard drive, and it will be all done.

Confining Sha'Niqua is proving more difficult than expected. the normal measures that i use to confine flea just don't work for a full-sized dog. i put a table in front of her little kennel space, she pushes it over and walks out. she's not a bad dog, just smart enough to know that she would rather not stay in a small space when she is perfectly capable of getting out.

i think i might just get one of those vari-kennel crates on my way home tomorrow. My "baby-gate the hallway" plan no longer seems feasible. I was in the (upstairs) shower this morning, thinking that Sha'Niqua was safely secured downstairs. Halfway through the shower, i see a shadow outside the glass door. Sha'Niqua had limped her way up the stairs. This is not what the doctors meant by "crate confinement".

I'm at a low point right now ... not hopeful, not stable, not feeling that i have much reason to exist. i can't wear makeup most days because it will all be smudged down my face is short order. don't ask why, i can't explain what i don't understand. i don't want to go out, don't want to see anyone, don't want to think. it took me two hours today to push myself out the door to go get lunch. and another hour to eat half of it. i don't think anyone wants to see me anyway, i'm especially unfun right about now.

everything just looks so bleak.
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