I hate, hate, hate the French. But I reserve the Au Revoir for the most special goodbyes.

I have said it once in Scotland. And once in San Francisco.

These are both places I would like to revisit.

The locations and the Au Revoirs, I mean.

The sound of dreams dying and the sound of insanity are the same.

You can hear it right now.

In your head.

"Hey, you're awesome!"

"So are you!"

"I like you."

"Really? Wow, so we like each other?"

"Yes."

"This is great! Let's go celebrate!"

...

"Hello?"

...

"This won't work."

"What? Why?"

"I've found someone else."

"Huh? I've known you for like, ten minutes. How is that even possible?"

"Fuck off."

"Okay. Did I say or do something...?"

...

"No answer. Great. And now you're gone. This is perfect. Hey, have you seen a girl, tall, brown hair--?"

"You're awesome!"

"Oh god, not again..."

Going through some pretty intense changes right now. Maybe this time I'll get it right. But probably not.

I have too much work.

Concerning relationships:

"They will all eventually disappoint you except for the one that doesn't -- and then you get married."


The glass is half empty, because you drank some of that delicious, delicious milk.

Nothing like starting the day out right by reading a bunch of YOU SUCK YOU SUCK YOU SUCK emails in your inbox by your boss. Makes you so glad you stayed up late to finish that letter that wasn't due until later during the day due to his frantic emails hours after initially sending it to you saying -- OH MY GOD OH MY GOD WHERE'S THE LETTER?

Well, it's really hard to call up someone's office to verify their address after hours you asshole.

I went to the HBO Emmy party with Sourpuss George. It was grand beyond belief. I've never seen so much money spent in one place on one party. It was incredible.

I think my brain is breaking down from all the work I have to do.

Yesterday was a weird fucking day. I woke up feeling not so good. Natalie gave me a Tomato plant -- randomly. Then I bought a new Longboard and went riding around Venice Beach and Abbot Kinney. I tried to wait for the fiships truck, but got too hungry and ate at this delicious place called LEMONADE.
Then I finished it off with the totally excellent movie, Drag Me To Hell.

That sounds like a good day, but it was hard for me to really get into anything, the day was overcast, but no rain, (oh how I wanted it to rain so badly!). Also, Drag Me To Hell was NOT an upbeat movie.

I just get depressed when I think about gardening now, because a squirrel just decimates all my plants.

Sucky.

"Silly." She said with a laugh, and kissed my nose.

"Yes." I said, "I am."

And that's my problem. Like the idiots in my stories, I'm far too optimistic. If I think someone likes me -- well, I assume that they like me. This doesn't seem a complicated concept, but the relationships between men and women are anything but simple.

At least it gave me an energy boost. A badly needed one.

I've been dragging like a cat's ass on the carpet and my levels are all over the place.

Fuck. This took me two days to post. I totally lost the original message.

I hung Michelle's lovely postcard over my desk; at least that cheers me up.

I feel burned out lately. Very burned. And a squirrel eats ALL of my garden produce, so it's hard for me to see the point of growing anything.

Blech.

I don't think my fragile heart can take it. She keeps stringing me along, and I can't get enough. I'm sick -- addicted to her and everything she represents. My head is swirling and I don't know what to think. I hate it. I hate it I hate it I hate it.
Absolutes are so easy. "I swear off women forever!" Simple. You see. But it doesn't work that way. Simple isn't always easy.


Awww fuck. Words are so meaningless unless they are shared from one mouth to another with a kiss.

Some days, you are that golfer looking over the green, feeling the soft brush of your freshly washed cotton twill polo over your skin, how your golfing shoes perfectly hug the contours of your feet, it's cleats sinking satisfyingly into the ground. The sunlight washes across you as the day draws to a close, and your beautiful girlfriend is calling from the cart with two drinks in her hand -- one for you -- to hurry up so you can both catch the sunset and kiss each other till you're silly. You grab a 9 iron, feeling its rich, solid, polymer metal grip in your grasp. You feel powerful, you feel amazing, you feel like a king.

You drop that little white ball on the ground. Shuffle your feet. Stretch out. Line up your club. And then . . . Smack! Right on the green! That one is going to be a birdie.


.
.
.
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And then, there are some days. There are some days where you are the ball.

The tea I'm drinking sits warm and wet in my stomach. I'm hungry, I'm tired, and while I enjoy my work I'm so far behind I can't derive any enjoyment from my job.

I keep hoping the fear will kick in and I'll start working at my usual furious pace. Instead I'll wait until I'm hopelessly behind and then scramble to catch up. That's how these things work. That's just how these things work.

There is a girl sitting in front of me on the couch that I don't like. I'm sure she's fine with my attitude, because she doesn't like me. I tried flirting with her at first -- a move borne not out of attraction but of boredom -- but she took all my jokes, and witty gibes as insults. Now we sit in the same room, ten feet apart, no air conditioner needed to make the room icy cold.

I want to write. Write and write and write and write. Write until my fingers bleed. Until my bruised finger bones crack from the constant impact against the keys. I know myself too well though. My need springs out of a desire to escape. To do anything else other than the job I've been given. This is why most of the time I would rather be on an island in the middle of the Pacific, not lying on a beach, not drinking out of a coconut, just living on an island.

I'm not down. I'm not angry. I'm not even depressed. This is good. This is progress. This means I'm on my way to a better, brighter place. It's easy to contrast when you have such extremes around you. I made the saddest man in the world smile today. I wrote him a thank you card, on eggshell blue paper. When I licked the envelope shut it tasted slightly like buttered popcorn.

I wrote his name in my shaky hand on the front of the letter, and left it on his desk.

"What's this?" He asked.

"It's for you. A thank you note."

He stared at me with shallow, sunken eyes. His pigmented pink skin was rimmed by grease and dirt. His glasses magnified his eyes so they looked like two black marbles swimming in little fishbowls. His face scrunched a bit, then, like an old horse picking itself up from the ground, the corners of his mouth tilted upward and he smiled a quick smile. Then he let his mouth go slack again, and he looked around at the wrecked cars in his yard, awkward for a moment.

He handed me the keys to my car. Staring off to the side of me. Silent.

"Thanks again." I said as I walked away.

I walked away, and I left the saddest man in the world behind me.

This weekend is not one I would describe as beautiful, but in retrospect it really was. I got my budgeting together, went to Malibu with my grandfather, and played with Bella at the beach. Played some guitar, and went out club hopping in L.A. I got to have a good, deep conversation with a friend. It's hard to make time for those these days.

Today wasn't as wonderful, but I got to sleep a bit, ate at Bay Cities deli and felt the cool, clean sea air refresh my lungs. I got to talk to an old friend in Texas, and my sister, and even ran into an unexpected connection from the past.

I got to read some good words, write some good words, work out, and tend to my plants. I did a little joyous dance that my banana tree has successfully survived its transplanting.

Now I get to have a story meeting with a friend, and then finish off the night by watching Entourage.

Maybe I don't have everything that I want, but what I do have, it's beautiful.

I had my doubts about today for a moment. But in the end, this day turned out pretty awesome.

I drove to my friend Lior's house, and made him waffles, and then we worked on locking sound for THE GODMOTHER. One step closer to completion!

Then I drove to PepBoys, and replaced my car battery and windshield wipers myself. Car maintenance!

Finally, I drove home, and cleaned around the house, and replanted a bunch of my heirloom tomatoes. Home maintenance!

Now I get to finish the day writing letters to people I care about and end with the first episode of Entourage at my Friend Dan's house. Maybe I'll even fit a workout and guitar practice session in there as well. Life Maintenance!

Although I did fail to get my Banana Tree, that can wait until next weekend, and assuming my car does not melt in the process, I might be able to fill my ant terrarium.

Today = awesome

This is why people live in Southern California. I'll post a picture on my other blog, but for here I'll just tell you how absolutely euphoric I feel right now. I'm sitting at my grandfather's house, listening to the plock-plock-plock sound as my cousin Steve plays paddle tennis with his daughter. My hair is drying from doing laps in the pool and sitting in the hot tub, and I'm enjoying a 2002 Spanish Albarino white wine as I enjoy the cool breezes wafting past me. The temperature is perfect, absolutely perfect.

It's moments like these you don't want to pass. Although I've felt much frustration these past couple weeks, I've also felt a calming of my soul. I've found something special, something different, and it's comforting.

Now it's late, I let this post sit because I was distracted by playing with my 7 year old cousin and having dinner with the family. I watched CORALINE, and was really kind of touched.

I had fun today, and although it was stressful in the center, I feel like I can go to bed in a good mood. I was able to work out, play guitar, do some writing, and spend some quality time with my grandfather.

Yes. A good day.

Hey All!

Check out my new blog http://lacitizen.tumblr.com/

It's super rad, and where I'll probably be doing most of my posting from now on.

-Jan

So it turns out that all the delicious food my roomie has been feeding me has been laced with MSG! No wonder it tasted so good! We both made this revelation last night as I chowed down on yet another of her delicious dinners.

It's not that I'm ungrateful, just surprised and disappointed that such a common condiment used in Chinese cooking has that evil substance inside it.

Oh well. Free dinner.

Yesterday was a good day. I woke up early, got cookin with Nat, and we schlepped all our things out to the beach. Then I hung out in the sun all day eating good food, playing games with friends and enjoying the 4th festivities -- all while surrounded by beautiful women. What more could a guy ask for? Well, I know one thing, but I've got to be patient.

I even got to take my yearly 4th of July longboarding session down the Venice Boardwalk. I don't know how I manage to do it, but every year (except for the last one) I have managed to Longboard up and down Venice beach, just taking in all the festivities. I rode down to Catamaran street, so I could see my old roomie Stefm, who was beautiful as usual, and we had fun dancing to the funky style of her boyfriend's band.

It got chilly at the end of the night, and the whole group retreated to my pad, where we drank beers and played games. I was fully in command of the party -- telling stories and jokes, and there were many points where the group was hanging on my every word.

Then I drove to Mid-Wilshire to see an old college friend, and while I enjoyed his company, I realized how much I have changed from my college years, and with friends like him why I might not have had the best time.

I realized how much happier I am all the time now that regularly hang out with good, decent, reliable people. People who you care for, and who care for you.

It really makes all the difference.

I'm feeling a tad strange. This feeling hasn't left me all week. It's hard to believe that at this time 365 days ago I was in Dallas, Texas, gearing up to do the GODMOTHER and wondering what the hell I was going to do with my life.

My how things have changed. And My how they have stayed the same.

Every year I feel like I've reached my peak, and then the next year I look back and I think "That was what I thought of me as the best I could be?"

This year is certainly different -- I don't believe I'm at my peak. Far from it. This is more exciting, because I can see exactly what I need to do to reach that peak. My head is filled with so many damn thoughts it hurts. My biggest enemy is time. I just don't have the time to do everything I want.

Before I hit 25 I didn't really pay that much attention to time. I really felt I could just put everything off for another year.

Now I'm starting to realize the awful truth that I should have known years ago: It's now or never.

Luckily I'm constructed in my way that has let me take advantage of this fact. The way I approach activities is that I might as well do them, and do them full up and as much as I can while I can (a basic tenant of the Hindu Religion).

Today, for instance, I learned I had the day off, so I spent it in the best way I could: exploring.

First I hit up some plant nurseries. I finally found a miracle berry bush, but apparently it would take two years before it will grow miracle berries. As I was looking at the Kangaroo Paws, and contemplating purchasing one, C. sent me a text that made me smile.

That smile lasted until I went out and found a parking ticket on my dash for forgetting I only fed the meter for 15 minutes. I was only over by 2 minutes. Oh well. Another text from C. erased the thought from my mind.

From there I headed to the Grove smack dab in the middle of L.A. I checked out a few stores, but didn't find anything interesting. I headed over to my true destination: The Los Angeles Farmers Market.

It certainly lived up to its name -- a mishmash hodgepodge of random stores and restaurants. I settled on a Maylasian food stand, and I bought a locally made soda called Lemon cola. It was rather refreshing. I checked out some of the stores, but only one was truly interesting: it hailed itself as a throwback from the forties and fifties, exclusively selling vintage toys and other trinkets. As I perused, a man said to me, "That shirt you're wearing belongs in here as well."
I had forgotten I was wearing my L.A. Aztec's shirt, the sadly defunct soccer team. It was nice someone caught the inside reference.

I got some homemade icecream from another stand, and then headed back to the Westside, so I could run by Target.

I only had one or two items to get, but ended up spending much longer than I wanted in there because of more texting with C.

I took a glorious nap, then helped Nat prepare for the big party the next day at the beach.

Today, all in all, was fairly glorious. I know tomorrow will be as well. I wonder if I'll get to see my old friend Sam on the beach?

I miss posting in a blog. I think you might see a few more posts here, or I might just change to a new medium entirely. I've considered hiring Israel to design a quick site for me, but where I will find the money for that (it all seems to go to plants and parking tickets these days) I don't know.

Life has taken an exceedingly sharp turn for the strange and unusual. I will post a story or two about it later on tonight, but events have occurred after last weekend that are shaking my fundamental belief structure. I almost had it figured out, and here comes this wildcard who knocks all my scaffolding out from under me.

And you know what? I love it. That little tower of Babel I had built lead to nowhere interesting -- to the dreary gray of a lonely life.

But now how do I keep myself occupied? I have spent so long training my mind to stay off certain subjects that to allow them to linger again is flirting with folly.

I am going to say something unperceptive and obvious, yet true: Everything I have ever done was leading up to this moment, and the reason things turned out the way they did was because of the things, good and bad, I have done in the past.

Wow, my literary toes are curling just saying the cliche phrase.

Enough! Enough for now. Maybe I'll practice some guitar, or clean my room, or cook, or work some more on my plants. Do anything rather than sit here, trapped with my thoughts.