It started with a kiss. Anybody who has read my blog knows that this is about my most recent fantasy man, Diamond. Diamond and I have been off and on for awhile now, more off than on lately, but with the power of text messaging and a couple days spent together here and there, it made me feel like there was something worth working for. Something to aspire to, and possibly a future relationship. All of that is now dead in the water, and thank god its now before I really allowed my heart to fall in love, and my mind to forgo all reason and logic (as those in love often do.)
I found out last night, as I was leaving Diamonds house, that he has…..a girlfriend??????

and I’m not going to rant about Diamond, or go off, because that last simple sentence did it all.

I will do this. Apologize to his girlfriend. I never would have went after him if I had known. I never would have pursued, or lusted after, or spent time with, or thought about, or fucked if I had known. None of these things would have happened if he had been honest with me about her because I don’t get down like that. I have cheated on enough people in my life to have terrible karmic luck when it comes to all my future relationships, and thats just not me anymore. I’m not scandalous. I’m not a lying two faced whore anymore….
I was. I admit it. But not anymore. I haven’t been for a long time, actually since my last civilian boyfriend, the one who helped me get clean and who I shamelessly fucked over. I will never cheat on someone again. And I won’t participate in cheating because it makes me sick to my stomach. It makes me physically ill. So last night, when I showed up at his house, (as planned) for a dinner that didn’t end up happening, I was fine with sitting downstairs while he was on the phone with someone. I was fine sitting downstairs while he got some work done. Shoot, I was even fine waiting till all hours of the night to go out to a nice meal. But as soon as I found out he had a lady, I was out. Double out. And not in a nice way. Fuck him…..

And I come to find out that he’s on the phone with her lying about me being there, denying any association with me, and especially denying it started with a kiss….part one two and three.

I’m sorry girlfriend. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to make you cry, but tonight, maybe we both should clean out our closets. If you wanna holler, and go out for a drink, you know how to get in touch with me. If you read this. If not…..good luck. Hope it works out better for you than me. and I honestly mean that.

Diamond? Never again. You’re straight back to Mr. X. Right where you should have stayed.

In fact, I may have to say I’m feeling downright horny. It seems like its been a long time since I’ve gotten down and dirty and been properly fucked. Like I good 45 minute session, where its just hot and heavy. Sweaty and exhausting. Interesting. I’m not quite sure what to do with this actually. I’m in SD, all on my lonesome, and really there is just nobody down here that I wanna fuck. I mean, I haven’t met one yet, not that there aren’t men to fuck because lord knows there are fucking plenty. I just don’t want to deal with going out and doing the whole, Hi my name is….
Should I hire a male escort? AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. oh god, it actually crossed my mind. But then I might as well just hire a male pornstar if that is where I’m gonna go cuz i know what I’m gonna get, and then I should probably film it for you guys to watch on here, and then realistically, I don’t think many of the guys would care about the money, so no, I think I’m going to have to say no to the male escort thing today. And all the male pornstars I know that would be down for a quicky are up in LA, and not here, in my living room.
GOD. Why doesn’t dick just fall out of the sky when you need it ya know? How frustrating. I’ve already masturbated like 5 times today, and its starting to give my wrist a cramp, and I don’t see how guys can jerk off all the time, I mean, the whole forearm starts to ache, and then I find myself using my other hand to move the first hand, cuz my right hand is better at the grasp then the left, so if you are taking a minute to cum I will probably use my left to use my right, so I can properly service your cock with my right hand. Does that make any sense? I just can’t think about anything but sex! I should go work out more I think, maybe burn off some energy? FUCKING A!

Okay.

Breathe deep Penny Flame san. You know how you can properly channel this energy, how you can turn your insane craving for a nice big cock into something productive…

It Started with a kiss…..PART 3

I look you right in the eye, with a smile on my lips, and gladly drop my pants to the floor. You fall out of your clothes and grab tight onto my hips, spinning me, rough, energetic. New. I giggle and instinctively reach back and touch my wet pussy for you. My fingers are dripping as I bring em to my mouth. licking all my excitement, and then reaching back for more. You feel it for yourself, and then plunge your rock hard dick into me.
You feel perfect.
You feel like a different man. Your thrusts surge with a passion that I haven’t seen from you. With a rhythm that rivals any of my coworkers. You take me quick and make me cum all over you. I can’t help but take peaks at your forearms on each side of me, your words, and your self….this has always been one of my favorites with you. My ass in the air, as you slide in between plush lips. You smack it and tell me to get on top of you, and thats perfect because I’ve been waiting all day to grind your dick into my guts, to let my cum drip down your dick onto your body, soaking your balls. I ride you in a way that just doesn’t work with anyone else. You effortlessly hit my g-spot with each circle, with each push. I cum so many times I start to see blurry, shake, convulse.
You spin me around and put me on my belly, my legs closed tight, dripping with juice.

Slowly, your dick tip touches my butt cheeks, then to my thighs, sliding up skin until tip kisses lips, parts, then takes. It hits perfectly. Again, I look to your strong arms on each side of me, and I kiss your hands as you take and own every single part of my orgasm drenched cunt. I thank you for the times you’ve made met cum, let me cum, kept me continuously in a state of orgasm. I tell you I’ve missed your dick, and your dick giving abilities. I hear you sip the air, small excited breaths that make my heart flutter. It feels like fireworks going off in my body, every muscle screaming for you to cum for me, please, cum for me baby, its all I want. You make my pussy so crazy, you just have to….cum, cum please please please……cum for me. Its all I want. I want to please you, and make you happy and be the woman that makes your dick cum over and over and over again.

And you do, flipping me over on my back so you can spray your hot sticky jizz all over my tits, flushed from an insane fucking session. I taste you, and you taste different. Clean. Your sweat is different. everything is so sweet, and pure from you, I taste you again before I clean up, not sure if you notice, don’t really care.

I won!!!!! I won the two that I really wanted to win….So fucking stoked. Okay okay okay, let me slow down, write you all about my week, here out in Vegas at the AVN convention.
This year I decided that since I had the honor of being nominated for so many different things, I should do my best to stay somewhat sober so that if by some crazy chance I won, I wouldn’t be fucked up and make an ass of myself. Well, it started with the first day. Every other year, this convention drives me into the ground. I suppose its probably because I get up around 6/7am, hit up the bar for a bloody mary, then up to make-up, another mary on room service, downstairs headed to the show there are two bars in between my room and the show, so Id get a drink at the first, finish by the time Im at the second, grab another drink and head into the show. Basically, every year I’ve had at least four or five drinks by 11am. and thats just to get into work.
This year, no such way. There is just no way that I can play like that anymore. It doesn’t feel good. I barely even drank at all in fact. A couple drinks with a homegirl the first night, (which sparked a little hankering for a cig, which of course I fell to, but half a cigarette isn’t bad, and it made me feel like shit for the next two days,), two beers at the circle bar the second night, three drinks (over a period of 5 hours) at the club the third night, and then I didn’t drink at all the night of the show, opting instead to attempt a fresh and sober approach to the evening. And I realized a few things due to the clear vision the lack of alcohol provided.
I was drinking like a fucking fish man. All bad. in retrospect, and of course hindsight is always twenty/twenty, I think I have been sedating myself to deal with a social anxiety thing. Big crowds make me so nervous. I’m just a short little thing and I can get swallowed up in massive amounts of people. I’m okay with small groups of people. I’m okay with people I know. But trying to walk through the Mandalay Bay hotel to the award ceremony almost put me into a panic attack. I’ve never felt like that before, and I think the massive amounts of liquor have helped smooth over the nerves of going. Like, if I get trashed then I’m pretty disoriented anyway and don’t give a fuck that people are around because I will just start swinging if I can’t get out.
Instead I felt like crying. And my make-up looked dope, so couldn’t take that road. Fortunately, Derek Pierce and Christian were there to help me. I held onto Christian at one point and started bolting through the crowd, muttering excuse me and pardon me while pushing lookey loo’s outta the way. My heart starts beating fast, I can feel my throat closing up, my palms get sweaty. Every muscle in me tenses, and I can’t make it stop. Even once we were on the floor, it took awhile to calm down. I can’t believe I felt like fucking crying. whatta baby…
It could be because I had to host an afterparty the night before the show. Wanna know my schedi? yup, here it goes…
Wednesday: signing from 11-6:30 (means up at 7:30 to get ready), only open to exhibitors, and media, so its mellow, yellow, nobody doin nothin. wednesday night went out with my homegirl angel, and had those drinks that sparked that hankering I mentioned. But I forgive myself, and move forward. lights out by 1:45
Thursday: Signing from 10:30-5:30 (means up at 7) open to the public, pretty slow all things considered. Hit up a Babeland cocktail party with tommy pistol and gia paloma, and then to a fantastic sushi dinner with Tristan Tarimino and Colton, both of vivid. After that, ran into some buddies that came out from New york later that evening, and hung out momentarily at the circle bar, where every fucking porn person hangs out and I have been known to run around yelling and screaming drunken ramblings, two beers, and I’m over the night. Go upstairs to smoke a bowl with a good reviewer buddy of mine and the lovely trisha uptown, who I’ve known for years. lights out by 2.
Friday: Signing from 10:30-5, (means up at 7) open to the public, I felt like things were going to start to take off as far as busy goes but not so much. Not so much. Now about a week ago, I had agreed to host my buddy dj rhinox’s afterparty. I had no clue what afterparty meant. I mean… after what? Like after the show? Okay, easy. No. well, in las vegas, after party starts at 4am, because most the clubs close around 3. So fortunately at Emprire Ballroom, The players Ball was the party right before my party, so I hung out with the kind folks from Xbiz, and celebrated like Players do…. dancing on stage with Humpty and Too short, smoking in back with the whole gang. Pretty much made my life being that these two men are hip hop originators, well, digital underground, for sure from back in the days and pretty much where pac got his start, and man, all the rappers grew up on Short. So finally, 4am rolls around and Taryn Thomas and I (yes my lovely little ass hat is back) introduce Big daddy Rhinox, I go go dance on stage for about 30 minutes, and bounce. Lights out by 4:45 am.
Saturday: Signing from 10:30-4:30 (means up at 8, can’t help it), pound down a Monster Energy drink, blueberry scone and then a double soy vanilla latte. On the floor on time, four hours sleep just about killing me. Sign all day, gotta go and get in make-up by like 5:45pm, another latte in between, a blunt and my face is done. Then I have to go from Bally’s to Venetian to get my avn dress and meet up with the crew of hooligans I’m heading out with. I’m wandering through the lobby, full face of make-up, in polar bear pajamas, not giving a fuck. “If i can’t find Vivian, my sexy dress maker, fuckit. I’m going in my Oaksterdam a’s t-shirt and polar bear pants, northface boots like what”….I smuggle myself upstairs into the rooms area, finally get in touch with Viv, hook up, throw the dress on, run downstairs to call franny. Franny fran is my accountant, and one of the best friends I have. Top notch lady. Well, being the frazzled tired fool i am, I forget my phone, avn tickets and press pass in Viv’s room, can’t make it up there quick enough, (it takes about 20 minutes to get from the lobby to her room), so I have my girl Demi holler at Fran through a text, tell her I’m at the fountain so holler, and then the group is here. Into the limo by 7:45, at Mandalay by 8:00.
The fucking crowds. I feel the room start spinning whenever I am arm to arm with people. I psyche myself out for part of it, I’m sure. But sans booze, I just don’t know how to handle it. Arm to fucking arm. Until we get to the entrance. at which point I push through like a brand new baby into the world and life begins. Well, at least I don’t feel like I’m going to die anymore. I walk the red carpet with Christian and this new chick, nika, or something along those lines. Ukrainian girl, lovely to the nines. Surrounded by all my favorite performers, Randy spears and his chick Demi, Derek Pierce and Lexi Tyler, we got the wicked girls, the vivid girls, Kirsten price, and Jessie jane the most adorable tiny Big Texan I know, even little Dave Navarro hanging out, interviewing for Showtime. We are done with red carpet by 9:00, right when the show starts, we do the do, make it down to our seats with about ten minutes to spare. And i have to pee like a motherfucker.
The whole arena is filled with people. The floor has like 15 rows of seats, im about 8 back, and then behind that is tables and then stadium seating. I know when they show the UFC shit, all you really get to see is the ring. Well this place is large and in charge.
On my birthday in 2006, I had the pleasure to work with the fine folks at Vivid on one of Brianna Banks movie’s Layout. Paul Thomas, multiple award winning director, actor, singer and muffin maker, and I get along like peas and carrots. Like Rock and Roll. So anytime I have a chance to work under his sunshine, I take it. Like a little flower blooming.
Best Actress Film….YYYYYYEYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! no fucking way. I swear to god, I had some doubts. I thought maybe me and Bri would get best girl/girl, (cuz it was definately the hottest g/g in my mind, even in that dirty scummy hotel room), but best actress? This is huge. The biggest honor of my entire career. And what do I do?
First I forget to thank AVN, the one company that has been recognizing my work from the beginning of my career. Only the company who’s throwing the whole shebang. From the days when I only did myself, movies like Repo Girl by DP, or Innocent by Ninn Works, AVN has been such a huge support of my work, and the fine reviewers and writers have always been so great to me, from Paul to Heidi, from Pete Warren to Dan Miller, these fine folks have been watching over me and helping to guide my career into the most wonderfully fulfilling experience. Because of their recognition, I have been able to continue down this crazy path called porn.
And then being the tired, filterless girl I am, I say thanks to vivid for letting me pretend to be a vivid bitch, thanks to the vivid bitches for being my favorite bitches, and thanks to all the xboyfriends that I’ve lied to that helped me to get to this point right now.
I thanked PT, and ran outta things to say. I had an entire room full of people, and I could have done anything. So I mooned em and ran off…..
Not very lady like Penny Flame but that is all good.
For some reason, Chi Chi had to play his boy/girls song two times, and I think it ate into the rest of the time of the show. And people were getting tired and leaving…They didn’t do any of the sex scene awards on stage. Very few if any at all. Tom Byron and I had great sex for Layout that ended up getting us an award…best couples film. So stoked. I had a whole speech planned out, (he said he had one too hahahha), and nope. Nope no time. They just rolled the credits on the big screens, and whammo, there went like 15/20 awards. Upload took home a buttload of awards. Layout took home best Film, (fuck yeah), and a bunch of other ones. Stormy, YEAH Stormy, she took home best comedy for Operation Desert Stormy, go girl, and she took home a shit load of others too. Babysitters did pretty well, and John Staggliano of Evil Angel, made a sugary sweet speech for his lovely wife Karen. I am over the moon about pretty much all the winners. Girlies like Hillary Scott and Sasha Grey, bigger than life on the tv walls on each side of their tiny frames.
And I felt great. I am very pleased with the everything, probably because I have always wanted to win this award. I am not very good at expressing emotions in my personal life as any man I have ever dated will confess, (the only reason I can blog is because I feel like it is just going into my computer and nobody is really out there reading it) and being in feature films is such a wonderfully expressive outlet for me. It allows me to feel things at no risk of being hurt. It’s like painting. You attempt to bring yourself to create something that an emotion that fosters the growth of another emotion that brings something out in the viewer and connects the whole.

Now, on the other side of my life, the personal, the social, I felt strangely detached the whole week. Really the first AVN that I didn’t go crazy and get hyphey stupid doo doo dumb everywhere all the time not thinking just moving going drinking consuming monster, redbull shaking morning hands crying ugh tiredtiredtired by day two. It may be a right of passage type thing, where if you can make it through a show without getting totally ploughed or kicked out or in a fight or whatever it is that is preventing you from being in a conscious thoughtful state of being, you might have a chance to be around awhile. If you don’t die doing drugs in some dudes room that you met at circle bar, or forget to eat for the entire week and realize day five that you’ve been awake since day one….
I stayed away from the cats I knew I would get fucked up around, and tried my best to find people I knew wouldn’t be more trouble than bubble. Not tryin to bubble, tryin to work, get through it, enjoy myself. Before I came out here I had hopes of meeting up with Diamond, figuring every year our paths cross and it should follow we would this year. maybe that night the stars were leading me away, perhaps an omen improperly interpreted. I’d see him, and then miss him. Or he’d come by and say hello, and then goodbye, and it was just another thing that I felt strange about. The encounter. Because there was none. And I had hoped, having him out of LA and away from all his shit and his job and responsibilities and out here in the city of sin he would maybe want to be just a little sinful, just a tad, even if it was just in a burger king bathroom, but nothing going. No love for your ol girl PF, ahahahha, I mean, no lovin’. Mad love. But definately no nadaneah nada neayh. And I shaved my legs everyday in hopes.
I just have to drop it. Quit thinking about it, him, anything I think. It just flusters me. Because I don’t understand. Time to take a step back and quit pushing so hard. That was the other thing I was thinking before AVN, is that it would be a good test, to see if the green light is pointing in our directions, like every other year, even the one when things were just strange. Should I take this as a sign?
Now I’m at Hard Rock, chillin in bed, relaxing, about to help host a party tonight for Vivid at Body English, Sunday school. Naughty girls. Listening to Jimmy Hendrix Castles made of sand….
And I think I’m gonna smoke a blunt. And take a breath.

Recently I had been struggling with some petty shit, mostly involving the “aging process” and difficulty losing weight, some pictures that I saw of myself were less than satisfactory. I joined a diet program and went to bed last night worried about how I would take to it, how I would keep to it, and whether it would work.
I awoke, made my cup of black coffee, 1 tablespoon of lactose free creamer, and went to grab the paper, which normally sits on my front porch. No paper this morning for some strange reason, so I go for the next best thing, CNN in the morning, lets see what happened in the world last night while I slept and dreamt of dieting.
Benazir Bhutto’s assassination flashes across the screen, images of her weeping openly upon her return to Pakistan after years of exile and being welcomed with open arms by her party, the pakistan peoples party, and her people. What a sad day for democracy. This woman had such charisma, was such an incredibly strong person, Musharrefs 3 day mourning period seems silly compared to his declared emergency state, and I wonder about the progress of Pakistan. I wonder about the country’s future, its elections, and mostly, its women. In a place where being a woman is nearly a crime, Bhutto represented the democracy we as americans strive to spread. It is a great loss that our world has suffered today, and now, my diet just doesn’t seem like a big deal…I’m still gonna do it, but man. Talk about having your worries shoved back in your face.
Everyday, there are little reminders that whatever it is I find myself freaking out about is probably not worth freaking out about. Everyday, I am reminded of how short and precious life is, and everyday I find myself letting go of the little things.
I mourn her death, mourn for her people who will suffer because of an extremist group fueled by the most natural gas available; all in the name of religion. I don’t think this is what God has in mind, no matter what God you kneel before.
I will write about my christmas and festivities tomorrow. For today, I am going to respect Musharrefs day of mourning.

after a ton of baking, and a lot of work on something I should have been working on constantly anyway, I am starting to feel as though it all may be worth it after all. I’ve realized a few important things in this week of confusion, sorrow, and loss. I’ve realized that there are very few people in life that I would do anything for. A few people in this world that I would probably lay down and die for (not that that would ever be necessary, but…..), and I realized that these people must at all times know just how important and special they are to me.
The ones who don’t cut it, the ones who I have been trying my hardest to stay friends with…..this is no friendship. There is nothing healthy about a relationship that leaves one starving for kindness, there is nothing healthy about a friend that leaves you angry, simply because they themselves are so angry it oozes from the pores, and attempts to seep into yours. Perhaps I should start at the beginning. And when I get to the end, I will stop.
As previously commented, yes. This year has been utter shit. Completely fucked. Everything that I hold dear, anything that I have believed in, or trusted in has been tested to a degree that no normal person could effortlessly pass. For example, in January, I quit smoking cigarettes. For those of you who know me, you know that I have been a smoker for over 9 years, 7 of those years a pack a day, the last two, two packs a day. that’s over 40 cigarettes, 280+ minutes a day that I had to fill with something other than cigarette smoking. Talking about it makes me want one. So I am going to tell you what happened a week after I quit.
My dog Lunchbox died from kidney failure, from that fucking dog food recall. A week after. Fucking bullshit. I could kill those careless bastards. After that, things just got more fucked up. From my little mental breakdowns involving Mr. Romance, and undeniable feelings for Mr. X, the lack of ability to talk to normal guys let alone develop some sort of relationship that is NORMAL, I have allowed myself to become increasingly isolated and detached. Quite honestly, I have never felt more alone. Then summer hit, and my friends all started dying. Starting with Haley, and (hopefully) ending with Nello, this year has kind of been a downward slope, more of a cliff where happy feelings just jump off one at a time, in a near suicidal manner.
I try and stay positive. Certain people around me allow this to happen, guys like Diamond or Tye n9ne, because they still have that power and hope inside, regardless of the loss. Then I realize yesterday, today maybe finalized the thought, the feeling, yesterday and today I realized who I need in my life and who I don’t.
Have you ever had someone who you have known forever, who has….well….changed? And not in that “we’ve been friends forever, we are growing old and changing together” kind of way? Just more the “what happened to you? You’ve changed…..” This is a man who I used to refer to as a friend, someone who I used to believe held my best interest at heart, someone who although we have seen bad times, the good times outshine any possible stain on the reputation. Well, I have begun to think that those good times were dreams. Times that I just wanted to happen. Maybe it was just good to me? I don’t know. But I’m done with him. I’ve spoken of him somewhere in this blog before, and looking back, its rare that the things I’ve said have been good. I once told Mr. X that he is the kind of guy you can never trust to be alone with your girlfriend, no matter how tight you think you are, he’ll fuck her (or try anyway) the second you close your eyes. At the time this didn’t seem like a problem, except for the fact that Mr. X at the time was Mr. Flame, and so it may have not been the best thing to tell him that you don’t trust him with you lady, me being his lady. Fortunately, I’ve never felt this way about Kai Bleeze, not in the sexy time or romantic, or even lustful, none of these things have I ever felt for him, so Mr X (flame) had no reason to worry about HIS lady because I wouldn’t let that happen. Kai and I have been friends for years, since we were 12 actually, and it was always based more on a family, “you’re like my little brother” type of relationship. We’ve never dated, and the only times we’ve ever had sex, (twice in our 13 years of friendship), we were both so plastered we woke up wondering what all we did. And one of those times I woke up with a sore jaw, because someone decided to get a little rough, and not being the trained professional, nearly broke my face. That was the last time I would ever have sex with him, drunk or not, because being hurt is not my thing, and while he felt bad, he didn’t comprehend the complexity of the situation at hand. He didn’t understand that there is something lurking deeper there, something that was let out under the pretense of drunken stupidity, something that is fundamentally anger. Anger toward women, and quite possibly, toward me.
I let that go, because it was a drunken mistake, and lord knows I’ve made a ton. However, this anger started to carry into everything he did. From the way he spoke to me and other women, the way he dealt with his friends, the way he just couldn’t let things go, to certain subtle changes in his mannerisms, and outlook on life. Something changed inside this man that I used to call my friend and made him into an angry, chauvinistic, and aggressive man, and I find I no longer recognize him. I look in his eyes, and I don’t see the person I used to know.
So after a couple years of trying to make it work, the past two have been the worst in fact, partially due to the fact that he has started drinking excessively, and partially due to the fact that he hasn’t had sex or a female in years, I am calling it quits. I quit you Kai. Not like he reads this anyway. I’ve told him over and over that I love to blog, that I pour my heart out in these things, and being that we’ve known each other for as long as we have, you would think he would be stoked because I don’t have an easy time opening up. (anyone who has ever known me personally will tell you the same….I am a fortress. I can’t share. and when I do, my emotions and feelings are so bottled up it all comes out like a rocket on the 4th, fucking colors and screeches and ooohhhs and ahhhs at the end of it all).So I admit to him that I blog, and I really like it because I have finally found a venue I feel comfortable expressing myself through. I even tell him Mr. X reads it occasionally to make sure I’m okay (which I absolutely love), and Kai just gets upset, says “Thats fucking gay, I’m your friend, I don’t have to read your blog to figure out what’s going on in your life,” but as anyone who has blogged will admit, it is much easier to come to terms with ones feelings through the spaciousness of the internet. Well, he always refused to read my blogs. Fine. Just fine. Not like I want my best friends to be included in what I care about, to know about things that I sit and take the time to write, the subjects that occasionally bring tears to my eyes. God forbid. Just another thing I had to let go. He said he would read it once, after a huge blowout fight, where I ended up screaming “You know what? If you had something that you loved to do and you did it everyday I would die to read what meant so much to you, I would do anything I could so I could share with you something so personal and real, anything,” but if that outburst didn’t prompt some sort of reaction I don’t know what would. And I highly doubt that he actually read anything. He never even finished the books that I would give him to read. Not one. I’ve given him 4 books in the past year, one on Rasta, one titled “The Zahir” by Coelho, one “way of the peaceful warrior” by dan Millman, and of course the follow up to that book, “Sacred journey of the peaceful warrior” also by millman. These are books that have changed my life. These silly pages filled with silly words have allowed me to make it through the past year, have given me hope in my darkest hour, and meant so much to me that no, i didn’t go out and buy him his own, I gave him my books. My editions. Pages upon which I have shed tears.
And he didn’t finish one.
When Mr. X told me about Danny Dukes, I happened to be at Kai’s house. Too in shock to cry or mourn or do anything, I left. Kai offered his apologies but that means nothing. Every time someone in our life dies, he feels it is his responsibility to come with the “truth” and immediately starts referring to said friend as a corpse. A wave of the hand and “oh him? he’sa corpse.” Not quite the person you want by your side if you hurt in anyway, because he’s the kind of guy who will laugh at you for feeling. And then offer you weed or beer to ease the “pain.” Once, I told him how concerned I was for a girlfriend who recently found a cancerous tumor on one of her ovaries, and he says “she should just get them taken out, that’s what I did to cali (his dog)”. Well fuck that, that’s not how I’m trying to deal with all of this loss. It just doesn’t feel right. So I didn’t bother calling him when I found out about Moonshine. And I didn’t bother calling him to tell him about my grandfather. No point. Which got me to thinking…..
Why the fuck would I ever call this guy again? Why in gods name would I want this kind of person in my life? Someone who is constantly unhappy, until someone else’s misfortune is greater than his. Then he may smile.
He was out drinking recently with a bunch of friends, and he winds up running into this guy Adrian, who Kai has been harboring some aggression toward for almost 6 months. and why? During the summer, Kai let Adrian borrow his truck to move into A’s new place. Somewhere along the day, Adrian being human, accidently bumps into another car. No damage to Kai’s, medium damage to the other persons, its all covered by insurance, and everything got worked out, but Kai just can’t let it go. It’s eating him alive, the anger and hate he has for this poor guy, just for an accident. So a couple weeks ago, Kai is drinking at one of our local drinking wells, and winds up telling Adrian that he (Kai) hopes that Adrian burns alive and that his wife Jamie has to sit and watch. The fucked up things isn’t just that he said it, but that he meant it. And so A’s little bro came with the quickie and gave Kai exactly what he needed, a busted fucking lip, and a little blow to the ego. So when Kai wakes up, he spends hours yelling about it, complaining about it, both to me and another girlfriend Rye, saying he wants to go burn down A’s house, A inside, etc. etc. blah blah blah, angry venom spewing from this otherwise grubby hippy looking kid. He says that he’s either gonna file a police report of assault, or burn the guys house down, so being the good girls we are, we opt for the cops. There is no point in trying to convince him that it’s his own damn fault, and he probably should have just shut his angry face, how do you convince someone who only sees red that he is the one to blame here? You don’t. You hope the cops show up and laugh in his face and tell him not to be such a dick. But the cops never get that part of the story. Kai also blames Rye, because she happens to be friends with Adrian, and well, why can’t she just fix this, and why the fuck is she friends with these people and what the fuck? This is every situation he gets himself in. Someone is always trying to fuck him over, is fucking him over, or already fucked him over. And the world just owes him.
He made fun of the fish I painted, saying it was boring, and not creative. Who the fuck paints fish? (well…I do….but…..)
He yells at me when I’m weak and smoke cigarettes. Not like friendly, “are you sure?” but like “fuck that that’s fucking disgusting, I thought you were stronger than that,” which really isn’t a good way to approach a “recovering nicotine addict”.
He tells me I’m taking the wrong kind of dance class instead of just being excited that I’m going back to school.
He only wants to hang out when I have weed, want to get high, or have money to buy weed off him to make his weed cheaper.

Why am I telling you all this you may ask? A couple reasons I suppose….
the first being the piece of nicorette chewing gum in my mouth. I am trying to let go of all the things that are bad for me. I’m trying to rid myself of the unhealthy habits I’ve picked up after years of being lazy and thinking myself indestructible. But I have moments of weakness where I look at my hands and realize I am human and I am doing the best I can. So I have come to the point in my life where I am willing to forgive myself for minor mishaps, like a cigarette when I’m drunk, or tears when I’m sad, and if he can’t, well then we can’t be friends.
The second reason is that I want to be able to read this later, maybe tomorrow, maybe a week, maybe two months, and remember why I decided our friendship has come to an end. I want this short note to stir feelings in me that I have pushed away along with his friendship that put me right back in the angry place he leaves me.
Reason three: Every time I go to LA, my friends up there tell me to cool off, chill out….”you need to kick it kitty, fucking Kai’s really getting to ya huh?” Tye n9ne would say, and I would say “what do you mean?”
“every time you see this motherfucker, it takes three days of being by yourself or with other GOOD people for you to lose that tone in your voice, that angry bitter tone that takes over every sentence, and makes it ugly.” Reason three? His angry moods, and tones, and behavior rub off on me. I’m a gentle, fragile soul, and his hatred for life is catching. The only way he hears you is if you speak in angry tones, loud, demanding, brutal tones, that while displaying shades of honesty, showcase cruel and unnecessary truths. I’m hard enough on myself, and I am sad enough about this past year. I don’t need some angry fool helping me to be angrier.
Reason four? I’m beginning to feel like a battered wife…..not in the “he beats me physically” sense, but mentally, yes. He is incredibly abusive. Any of his x girlfriends will tell you the same thing. I don’t need someone to beat me down all day. I don’t need someone telling me my artwork is shit, I know I have a long way to go, please don’t say I’m not creative because I do what I can, and for christsake, what more can you ask?
Reason five? I would rather be alone, with a thousand cats and bamboo plants to keep me company than spend time with him sober. That says everything. I don’t mind him so much when I’m stoned, because I can block out the terrible things he says that I don’t want to hear. But when I’m sober? No, no complacency, no rolling over. I just get pissed. I don’t want to be friends with people that I wouldn’t kick it with sober. Because I like being sober. I like who I am, and I enjoy my life. He brings an ugliness to the table that is unlike anything you’ve ever seen. I don’t ever want to mask my feelings with drugs….even if it is just pot.

Why is this all coming to light?

Because life is fucking short. Life is so fucking short. It could be over in the next ten minutes. the next ten days. the next ten years. Nobody knows, and because of that I want to surround myself with only the most positive, beautiful, joyful people I can. That isn’t to say that I’m gonna bounce when times get tough, or some fair weather bullshit, but I do expect the people in my life to be generally happy people. Because life is a generally happy thing. In fact, even through all this death and trauma, there is a silver lining to my clouds. Tye n9ne still cracks a smile at the mention of Moonshine, even though she is beyond this world. Mr. X always found something positive in Danny, even though the guy had pretty much given up on himself. Even my fucking agent, who is notorious for being a cold hearted monster (who, conversely, I admire and not just because he has made me hundreds of thousands of dollars) can find some beauty and some worth in even the nastiest raunchiest ickiest bitch….and he’ll even make her some $. Even HE can see the beauty underlying it all. Even HE is happy.
Our lives pass with the clouds, one moment they are here, storming in the sky and raining on our parades, and the next, blue skies and sunshine and it’s over. I don’t want to look back and think, “why on earth did I let this guy get to me?” If we hadn’t been friends for so long, I would have cut him years ago. I would have ended it when he began to resent me for developing a cocaine problem.
Well, I’m done now. I don’t want to play anymore, and the decision, although sad, does not make me sorry. Its like I’m closing a chapter of my life. I’m leaving all the pain and sorrow of the past year in the past. Where it belongs. The lessons will follow me throughout life; love life, let love, and let go. But I will not allow something so hateful steer my ship into the future. I will not allow one mans anger and spite change the expression on my face when I wake up. I am cutting all hateful, resentful, and angry people from my life. I don’t care if I have to start remaking friends at zero…..
But I’m not. And its that juxtaposition that makes me aware of the people still in my “circle”. its that contradicting vibe that permeates my skin, and my soul. There are millions of wonderful beautiful people in this world, and most of them will be down to be friends with me.
I refuse to let myself believe any longer that because of the “time span” of our friendship, it has to continue. Because it ended a long time ago. Shame I just realized it now.

I started baking today with the intention of making cookies filled with sugar and love. Instead, the cookies and treats provided me with the only comfort of the day, just the busyness of making them, the timing, the mixing, the rolling.
I found out this afternoon that a buddy died last Saturday night. That was the night that the waves were crazy high, crashing at 15 feet, out of control, and they closed the pier because the ocean had damaged it in such a way that left the wobbly structure unsafe. After an evening of drinking, and a grand finale 5th of Wild Turkey, the homies mikey and Nello decided to take on the wrath of Poseidon himself, and in their board shorts. After they jumped the fence that was designed to keep such hooligans out, they ran the half-mile down to the T of the pier and both jumped. Mikey says he talked to Nello the whole way in, up the last point where mikey caught a wave and believed Nello did the same. Mikey woke up on the beach in a heap of kelp, alone. No Nello.
So he went to the lifeguard, hoping he had seen something. Nothing.
Nello’s friends and his sister filed a missing persons report and waited all Sunday. Nello’s body washed ashore late Sunday, leaving the lifeguards to believe that he had been pretty close to shore when it all ended. Close enough that it didn’t take the 3-5 days they expected. It took one. Nello’s sis had to call her parents and let them know. Both moved down here earlier this year, and have been such awesome kids that fit perfectly into the group of crazy cats I run with. What a shame. what a sad sad loss. I feel so terrible for his sister. They were so close. She has to be dying.
So I spent the whole day baking. Cookies. Truffles. Cakes. Bread. Whatever the fuck it took to not break down and cry. But I did anyway. I sat in my kitchen and cried. Like a big fucking baby. When will it end, this horrible fucking year? Because it obviously isn’t going to get any better…..I mean, progressively worse is one thing. But this? It’s insane! ENOUGH WITH THE DEATH ALREADY PLEASE. They say bad things come in 3, but this has been one shitty fucking year man, and there have been no three’s unless we’re speaking exponentially. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of everyone dying around me, tired of friends getting so fucked up they kill themselves. I understand that life is precious, and am thankful for every moment but isn’t this a tad bit excessive?
And to top it all off, I just found out my only living grandfather is on his deathbed too. So, I’m going to go visit him tomorrow, and hopefully he’s lucid, and hopefully I don’t have some emotional breakdown that will just aggravate the whole situation.
Because I am trying my best to float peacefully through these tumultuous times, but with every death, i feel as though a little piece of my humanity goes as well. Little bits of me that were previously hurt by such things build tiny little invisible walls to block out the fact that I will miss these people. And I try and remain positive, and subjective. And I try and tell myself that death is the ultimate climax of our lives, the only proof that we have lived, and I try and believe that we don’t leave, and instead simply change. But its hard.
It’s really hard, and no matter how much I try, I can’t help but feel like something was lost. Something….

The whole Sugardaddy thing. I can’t do it. I can’t even think about it. Taryn can have em all cuz, well, wow. Sorry, let me gather myself and figure out what just happened.
My inconvenient truth is that I just don’t feel right about looking for someone based upon their income. My greed can’t overcome the icky feeling in my tummy every time I look at emails. Its just not for me. For other people, but not for me. If I want companionship, or something to do that bad, I can do like the rest of America and sign up for an actual dating website that hooks you up with someone based on personality and likes and not how much someone is willing to spend on me a month. I have a fucking job. God gave me two arms and two legs just like everybody else on this earth, and there is nothing stopping me from going out and getting shit for myself by myself. Even if its stripping, at least I’m out and “providing a service,” not just sitting behind my computer sending kisses to men I don’t like and never could simply on the merits of the website. I’m sure there are some very nice men there too, but I don’t think these men are for me. Presents always stress me out, because my twisted little brain associates spoiling with buying off, don’t try and buy me off man! I don’t even like guys to buy me drinks, who am I kidding thinking that I could actually have a sugardaddy. ME? There must be some underlying thing here, something deeper. Because I don’t do weird things and sign up for shit like this ever. Its never been me. And it never will.
I feel like I’ve slowly transforming into this little monster who spends and consumes and eats and shits and fucks and none of it every satisfies so why perform such meaningless rituals. In the name of comfort? When did this whole thing start I wonder? When did the NEED develop? Because today, I found myself checking the sugardaddy email inbox, and almost writing someone back, almost committing to hello, but then pushing the close button each time. This last time, frantically scrolling over my menu bar, gotta find something else to fucking look at I feel sick in my stomach. Blep. So here I am. Writing to you. And I’m already starting to feel better. I think I am going to delete my account entirely. I would rather work 30 hour days 40 days a month than demand someone take care of me. Too much pride shiny little penny.
So I am going to dance tonight at Cheetahs. If you want a lapdance, then I will take your money. Sure. No problem. Come on in. And to any sugardaddys, keep on keepin on man. It will never be enough. You can’t feed the beast inside of her. No amount of your money or work will ever make her just love you. it will just make her more thirsty. and when shes had her fill she will wander away, coming back only to refuel her fire. more more more more more more more more more more. and if you are okay with that then I am okay with that, but a beautiful woman will love you for you, only you, and the you can both enjoy your sugaryness, but man, no rose colored shades can make me see this in a pretty way. It just makes me feel icky, it makes me feel like I don’t like people, like the greed will just grow and grow and grow and more and more and more.
Well, I don’t need more. I don’t even want more.

I don’t know that I have ever spent thanksgiving away from my mom. She is my best best best friend, and on all our holidays, we eat like pigs, drinks like kings, and dance like we never have before. ANd I had a wonderful holiday with my little Taryn and her wild Thomas family, but I miss my mom. I miss her laughing, yelling at me to get my dirty hands out of the potato pot. I miss her telling me that I shouldn’t have eaten that 7th slice of pie, and she knew it would be the one to hurt my stomach. I miss her getting a little too drunk, and hugging me cuz she misses me. I miss all the gay family pictures that we take in the backyard, the loud christmas carol music that she breaks out every time this year.
I miss my family.
Although your friends family could be the best replacement for your own, there is nothing like the comfort of people who are required to love you, even after you’ve had too much eggnog. There is nothing like knowing that you can say something so politically incorrect that someone squirts milk out his nose, and instead of there being a terrible silence, there is laughter, and tears of utter joy. The simple and honest beauty in the foundation of your family can make or break a holiday. My family has managed to put all our ugly little secrets out on the table to be dealt with up front, and now, there is nothing to hide except for the notch on my belt after dinner.
I miss my mama. my sister. my brother. even my dad a little. (but don’t tell him that…)
I am thankful for every moment that I get to spend with them. I am thankful for every moment I get to spend on earth. I am thankful for all the wonderful people in my life who have left “footprints on my heart.”
Happy Turkey day folks…..
Hopefully, your bellies are full, and your hearts are satisfied.

Its been nearly two days since the blazes started. I somewhat recall running out to Kai’s rooftop deck to see the smoke after the Raider game on sunday, thank you Negro Modello. I called my little sister to make sure that she was okay. Fine fine fine, mom has already called her said pack your important shit and bounce. She is staying in La Jolla. Everything is fine.
Monday, I fly up to Oakland to shoot for the wonderful Chanta Rose, and on the way up, we see blazes in Malibu Canyon, nothing as far as SD. I fuck Christian in the ass, get fucked a little myself, and hop back on a flight south.
Darkness falls over California, allowing the seriousness of the fires to shine brightly through an otherwise black night. seeing as how the flight from the biggity is no more than an hour ten, one can imagine the amount of burning witnessed by southwest passengers, on the left side of the boeing 300, mouths open. eyelids peeled. California is on fire. It started halfway through the flight, and didn’t stop, because we landed in the middle of it. Fucking insane. It was so sad, and so beautiful. Fire has that deeper meaning, like in books, when something burns, it means that it has been cleansed, and from the ashes, new life may arise. My sister actually has one of those things tatooed on her hip. What the fuck is it. god…..I really can’t even think of it. Maybe later, when I forget I forgot.
This morning, I hopped on a train predawn. I thought it was predawn. Until I realized that the sun was shining, but the smoke from the fires wasn’t allowing light to reach our normally sunny haven. Not until the train hit irvine did it totally clear, and even then, you could see smoke in the distance. To think that someone actually started a fucking fire in the OC. WHAT? Are you shitting me? Like our firefighters don’t have enough to deal with, Mother Nature and all. Santa Ana winds causing havoc on a supreme american hotspot. warm weather people. this is a little too hot. Bullshit.
Well, I did my job with the quickness, (a box cover for Playgirl with Justin Magnum, sexy little monkey), decided to try out Los Angeles “subway” system. WHAT???? when did this all happen? This is fucking great! About time LA got up to date with shit and started using public transportation. And for cheap too!!!! Man. If only it went out through the valley. It would pretty much be the most awesome thing ever. It doesn’t matter though, I’m already hooked. I love subways, and especially bart. I might just get married on BART. Pretty much my favorite. When I was a little girl, my dad would race bart. not like the stupid ohio or wherever parent who raced the train and killed everyone, but like, when we were on the freeway he would tell me and the siblings we were racing, and since he was dad, we just believed him. We also thought everyone else was going to DisneyLand when we were, and that was why there was traffic. Anyway….
I get off metrolink, run upstairs, see that my train to SD is leaving in 4 minutes, hop skip and jump down to track 9 and up the stairs. Double check with the attendant, “south yeah?” “yeah, you fine girl” and up the stairs we go, downstairs being for the disabled. As soon as I reach the 6th step, I see this guy smiling at me. he’s older, got a flat top haircut, a little bit of a handle bar mustache, tube socks pulled up, something just isn’t right. He smiles, I recriopricate, head to my seat. Train is in motion. Come on baby, do the locamotion, and the ding ding rings over the intercom: “Welcome on Amtrack. blah blah blah blah blah, if you are over 21 you can participate in our alcohol program….blah blah blah” ding ding. Cerveza. Upon my return, I am greeted with another smile, right back atcha, and to my seat. mr smiley, from here on known as Little Bear, approaches and requests my company. “may I sit down”….”sure…go ahead”. Introductorys are made, and obvious conversation comes up. Our destination en route is en fuego. The whole fucking county is on fire.
P: “So, where you from?”
LB: “well, I just left Chino, but I grew up in the SD area….”
I know what that means. And I am not prejudice at all. That means you just got out of prison. that’s a step higher than jail. Well, I say hello, its no big deal, let him think that for a little while, I don’t know what he is talking about. Because he doesn’t know that we have something in common.
We both don’t want to talk about why exactly we are on this train headed south. He doesn’t want to tell me why he was in jail, and I don’t want to talk about why I suck dick for a living. Easy as that. Just not in the mood. And he isn’t someone that i am trying to impress or shock. I have a feeling that nothing I say can shock Little bear, a feeling that is so tempting, its almost a game to ignore it. Its like not smoking cigarettes. The ability to say no to myself is probably my biggest struggle…..that being said…..
“So, are you excited to see the fam? What are you guys gonna do first?”
“well, I haven’t thought about that, see I haven’t spoken with my sister in a year….”
way too close to home. I haven’t spoken with my dad in years. But this isn’t my story.
From Fullerton to Santa Ana, I tell Little bear about whats on fire, naming a couple places, tecate, ramona, julian, pretty much to rancho penasquitas, even to solana beach, people are being evacuated, forced to leave their homes. Grab the most important things As quickly as possible. Leave.
“Where does your family live?”
“Black Canyon”
I have no idea where this is, and ask if he is gonna call his brother, his sister, try and line something up for downtown san diego. Dumbshit, no cellphone, just got out of jail, obviously no way to fucking call. Not like they charged his nokia battery. I offer him my phone, and he takes a couple try’s to remember his sister’s number. He doesn’t want to speak on it through the earpiece. He wants it on speakerphone, feels more comfortable like that.
“Your brothers house is burned down. They went for your Uncle. He stayed on top of the hill, isn’t leaving his home. His land. Everything is gone. The Tribal Lodge even burned, that’s where one of your checks were. I don’t think we can get it back. I’m sorry. Do you want me to pick you up?”
Little Bears out of jail celebration quickly ended. His whole body slumped foward, his shoulders sinking into his chest, his head and eyes to the floor. He said the past couple fires just jumped their property. That he needs to sweat, and hasn’t for over a year. They lost everything. You still have your family. plants will grow, stronger. Buildings will be rebuilt, better. But memories, and family can never be replaced. If you still have these things, and the rest of your life is in ashes, then you are lucky. But my house didnt burn down. And I am truly sorry for your loss. I pray that you lose no more than you already have.
Little Bear excused himself momentarily, and returns with a feather, pokey party beaded, well loved. He began praying at our seat, praying for his family, for his brother, his uncle, his sister, all the people in his life. And then he handed me his prayer feather, and allowed me to offer a prayer to the grandfather, to everything that is, and as our train bombed down railroad tracks parellel to the pacific ocean, the smoke began to set on, the haze, thick air that reminded me of why I quit smoking. I love oxygen.
We shared another beer inbetween oceanside and solana beach, and he asks, “Should I even try and ask for your number?”
I reply, “Probably not, but I have honestly and truly enjoyed our train ride together.”
He shakes his head, hopefully thankful for my brutal honesty.
Before I get off the train, I give him a hug. I welcome him back into society, and tell him to keep his shit straight so he can continue to be a participating member and get drunk with cute girls on amtrak heading to the apocolypse. He thanks me for the beer and I leave, flying down the narrow stairwell, out onto the platform, and up the station stairs to my coache. My car is covered in ash. I have to back it up, and start driving so the wind blows it off, otherwise I am fairly sure it will scratch and this day will never leave. Earlier, when I left for LA I exited my car OCD happy because just as I pulled into the spot, the song ended, and I could pause my ipod right before another song started, but not know what song it is, and not have to restart it when i get back it, only play and we are off, a brand new surprise song, a little nutso like that.
Con Te Partiro….
Bocelli singing his fuckin heart out….
Southern California is on fire.

I went to work this morning in San Juan Capistrano. Well, not this morning, and not exactly work. 6:45 this morning, my alarm goes off, I stumble scratching my belly and tugging off my panties into the bathroom and turn on the water. HOT HOT HOT. okay, turn it down a touch, perfect, now, where is my toothbrush? ah yes, still packed, I fell asleep last night eating licorice and smoking pot. Oral B is in the bag, waiting patiently, to clean the chomps for a whole two minutes while I let the perfect water run over my sleepy body. By the end of the timer, I’m ready to shampoo, condition, scrub, dry, pat, dry, lotion, make-up, wake-up, time for coffee and a blunt before I leave to SJC.
At the coffee place, I see this little black lab puppy, and he jumps in my lap, all wet from the beachy morning dew he lay in earlier, so he kisses my face and wiggles in my lap while Kev makes my triple shot latte and Kai’s mocha with the little football sticker to keep everything in place when in route. Wake up kai, smoke two blunts actually, the first one was a warm up, and then really off to SJC to shoot two sets of solo stills.
Driving driving driving blah blah blah, ding, I’m here.
So I show up to this real nice, real square pad off the 5 to a tattooed gent smoking on the front lawn. Perfect. The photographer.
We head inside. We barely shoot anything. I’m there for a grand total of 2 hours. In fact, we go down to coffee and the atm at the exact two hour mark, and up to that point, I thought everything was cool. Real cool actually. Until he confides in me that it is possible, (now don’t call him crazy) that Johnny depp moved to France because of him. Well not directly because of him see, but earlier in his life, how much earlier is still in question, he had a bit of a herion problem. Well, this problem landed him at his buddy’s house in Silver Lake, where things were a bit on the under. Well, at some point, he began sending Johnny these gifts, kind of like a package where everything inside relates to something else, and had some sort of significance. Well, Johnny of course never wrote back, but started adding sublte things into his movies to let this photographer know that he knew, yes he knew what was going on. In fact, Johnny and he had a little game going with eachother, thus becoming arch-nemisis. Well, after Johnny sold the viper room, (yes, he called a couple times to make sure that his scripts had arrived, and well he was a bit fucked up when he sent them and he just wants to talk about it and make sure he didn’t scare anyone because he is well intentioned), he-said photographer- got a bit fed up. And since that movie 23 with Jim Carrey just came out, and he used to be in a band called the bogus clowns, and b is the 2nd letter of the alphabet and c is the 3rd, it was a bit ironic that Johnny was afraid of clowns because said photographer sent him pictures of him in clown attire playing guitar. Well, when Johnny announced that he is “moving to france because (he) can’t deal with SOME peoples demands and requests” well, I just knew it was about me and well, I hope you don’t think I’m too crazy….
At which point I said, “no, I’m with ya man…..do you know where the restroom is around here?”
I walked away, returning my empty coffee glass to the counter, and grabbing a roll of toilet paper from the counterperson, I locked myself in the restroom to make sure, just make sure, its not me.
I look at myself in the mirror, hands on the sink, purse slung over right shoulder.
“How much pot did you smoke today flame. You okay? you hearing shit?”
As I asked myself this, I realize that I can hear just fine, and nope, sure as shit this dude is fucking crazy. Time to roll out.
I walk jauntily back to the parking lot, ready and rarin to get south when he asks if I have any pot. I said sure, I guess we could smoke, how about right here. In broad daylight.
He says lets go back to his house.
I say, “why don’t you just get in my car”
We smoke…
he gets out.
I drive like fucking hell, the whole way home, calling the office, saying never again will I shoot for this guy. Nice as pie, but nuts as fuck.
No offense, if you are reading this, and you in some way relate to the story he just fed me, but you may be fucking nuts too buddy. It is quite possible that he needs mental help. He said they tried to make him go to rehab, and he said “no, no no”. I don’t know that rehab can help with this kind of issue. Delusional. insane. not quite with us, here on earth. I’m always a little unsettled by people that will get upset after writing someone famous letter (such as Johnny depp) and not receive a reply. Do you know how many letters he gets? How many fucking quacks are writing him asking things? scripts? dreams? total request live? And then to think that somewhere along the way he decided to go out of his way to fuck with you?
I shouldn’t even write about this type of person, because it is the type of person who will go bonkers and hunt you down. I could end up being his next Johnny. Penny depp.
hey, that kind of has a nice ring to it…..the french are down with mistress’s oui? Supposedly if you aren’t married with a mistress, you can’t multi-task.
That being said, I’m going to go. Buy some bat cookie cut-outs. I need to feel halliweeny, and I figure cookies is always a good way to ring in a holiday. That and I want to enter a sugar coma free of thoughts about wierdo’s who claim to be my all time favorite actors archnemisis.
today, I met someone crazier than me.
And it frightened me.