So, it looks as though tomorrow is the first of Febuary….which is normally a good month for me, birthday and all, but it’s looking to be a bit slow. Only have four days booked so far. And I know that the days will fill up, I’m just a little down right now. Mentally, distraught? I’m not sure if I could qualify under those terms. Definately mental though, but almost distraught. Verging if you will. And I don’t know what I can trace it back to….well I do but I’m trying very hard not to think about the little Box of my dreams because it doesn’t fix anything, and in fact, I feel as though it sets me back in a way. I can make it the whole day, with very few tears, and at times I feel guilty for not letting myself think about him, and I feel guilty for trying to push his sweet little face out of my mind. But everytime I think of those big eyes, (like right now) I start to tear up, and my throat closes down, and I can feel wet streams falling down my face. So I wipe my eyes and start a new paragraph.
I called my lawyer yesterday to explain where his fee went….I had intended on paying him when I arrived home from ATL but something came up. And he understood, and was sympathetic, becase altough he never had a Lunchbox, he’s had a pup die and he knows if you’re a dog person, it just about kills you. So he said we should go out to the pound this weekend to look at little pups, and maybe rescue one. And I’m never buying a dog again, pure bread or not, I will only rescue puppies that are on deaths door. In honor of my little Lunch. Because goddamnit I couldn’t save him, and I loved him so much, and if I can save just one little puppy, I’ll know that Lunch’s passing won’t be in vain. And I’m trying very hard not to let myself think that I can’t keep something alive, or that I’m a bad mother, or an unfit packleader, but there is still that little voice crying out…”don’t do it. You know you can’t keep life, and you know that you are not capable of bring up life, or really even creating it,” and I constantly battle my own demons, my angels calling my devils liars and blasphemous fools. And I don’t want to deprive myself of all “life”’s joys, and I know that one day I will be a good mother, to dog or child, and I just keep pushing those devils out with angel’s halo’s and hoping that one morning, the angel will comment first, and in fact, win the battle that wages inside my mind.
This is once again where I hope everyone in the world is at constant battle with their own demons and angels, and that that somehow would make me less lonely.

Gotta go work for mike adams over at Metro today. With the lovely Rita Foriowahtgiaohwe I don’t know how to spell her crazy last name (that’s gotta be a doozy in the google search), and the one the only “Jean Val Jean”. I wonder if he even knows that he’s a french philosopher…..some how I’d bet my mutual fund that he doesn’t. Sweet guy though. I always feel strange fucking him. Everytime I close my eyes, I pretend that I am prettier than him. And then I open my eyes, and nope, he still wins this beauty padgent. Which is fine, because I never even entered. But it is still unnerving….fucking someone who is more feminine and dainty than you, and you hold the vagina. A very interesting combination. I wonder if he has ever done lezzie flicks?…..bad question Flame. Bad question. of course not. Anyway, Mike covered us in this glow in the dark paint (non toxic of course) and then turned on the black lights while the three of us went at it. Talk about an awesome concept! Fucking wild actually. I can’t wait to see it.
End of the scene, he got cum in my eye, but that always kinda makes me laugh, becuase I’m not one of those bitches who will get mad when his little soldiers get in there….Some girls say, “don’t cum in my eye” and if I had a penis, that would be the first thing I’d do….hahahhahha….that’s why god didn’t give me one by the way….but yeah. I had a terrible case of “red eye,” notice the singular, and the scene turned out pretty dope, and Rita is always lovely. And she took it in the ass, (I hadn’t been paying attention when this was said, in fact I’m having a hard time paying attention to anything) and then Jean put it in my mouth, and I didn’t want to disrupt the fluidity of the scene, so I went with it, and man is he lucky it was clean, because otherwise, I would have barfed on his face, (not because of Rita, if I’m gonna put anyone’s cock in my mouth after it has been in an ass, it had better be Rita’s ass), but that will never happen again. And I didn’t find a single thing sexy about that whole Ass to Mouth thing, but I’m a good whore, and I try new things and if they don’t work? well, at least I tried right?
Yeah. Jean is lucky all right. Because after he put it back in Rita’s ass, he told her to suck it, so that was two ladies that sucked his cock after it had been in her ass, and neither one of these two ladies had done that before, and I have a feeling neither one of these two ladies will do it again. Go figure. Whaddaya gonna do right?
I can’t wait for tomorrow. Nothing to do. Just paint. Maybe do a little video blunt drive, but it’s so shitty outside right now, and i hate doing those things in the rain, because I can’t open my windows and I’m soooooooo high from hotboxing myself that well, goddamn. Maybe I should do a video blunt journal now that I think about it outloud.
Okay, here is my day tomorrow. first, potty, brush my face and wash my teeth, then tea time. During tea time, I will write you another little blog here, and then if it isn’t raining, I will do a little paint paint paint. In fact, I will probably masturbate first (which if you want something sexy and alluring, this may not be it, because when I masturbate at home, I’m forced to do so on the couch in the living room because my bedroom doesn’t have any outlets, and goddamnit my vibrator plugs into the wall….So I don’t look very sexy because I’m actually trying to cum, not to be sexy….and it’s poorly lit, and the camera doesn’t move, because I set it on top of a couple books and nobody is there but me…..well and now you) and then paint paint paint.
And then I might eat something.
and then I might smoke something.
But I will definately paint something.

Yesterday, after a long, hard, and slightly traumatic week, Snuggles voted that we spend the day at DisneyLand. it took us so long to get our shit together to leave that by the time we actually did, I was all bitchy and already wanting to be there. But the closer we got to Anaheim, the more excited we got. The five of us (me, snugs, Smoke, Carr, and Rachel) were like five year olds. So excited. All yelling that we want to go here first, no there first, actually, we should do pirates first cuz then we can get those awesome swords and we can defend ourselves on other rides. So during the Indiana Jones ride, we had our swords unsheathed, glowing through the dark creepy passage ways, until a voice that sounded somewhat like a cross between a prepubescent cop and God himself came over a loud speaker and boomed “Put the swords away”. We were all good after that. The whole day, I had the boys watching their mouths (as I was watchin mine), replacing fuck with monkey, or trucker. Too many goddamn kids at that place. Go figure.
Well, finally, I have a day with which I have nothing to do. well, I need to go to the bank and handle rent, make some deposits, and write some checks to pay some bills, but other than that my day is pretty much open. Open open open. I have to take Snugs to the airport, so he can go back up to the YAY for his alcohol screening class (like he doesn’t know how to drink….). By the way I went to mine (alcohol class that is) and incredibly enough, it was almost fun. I walked in, signed the in and the out sheet, sat down, and watched A&E’s Intervention-a show I watch in the comfort of my own home. we even got out early. nice, considering it was my first of a million classes. Kinda silly. What are ya gonna do though? you do the crime, you pay the time. So this is me paying…..watch.
And last, but certainly not least, I’m still thinking about my sweet little Lunch. I miss him so much. My best little friend. I’m actually trying not to think about him, which kills me because I love thinking about him. The way he bounces, the way he’d get his little chest down close to the floor right before he charged at me. The way he’d hold onto his little toy so tight that I could spin him on circles on the floor, granted they weren’t very large circles, keep in mind what a little smally he was. And I don’t know the formal etiquette of “what to do when your favorite dog on earth passes away” and I don’t know if I can even be a good mom. To dogs or people. This whole experience really has me trippin. My whole life I’ve worried that I couldn’t live up to the extreme responsibility of having, taking care of, and raising kids. A terrible thing to worry about on a daily basis, these fears are part of the reason I’ve always said “nope. I don’t want any kids.” But now, after this, I worry that I can’t even keep a small precious thing alive, let alone help it to grow and flower and bloom. And I’ve told myself, over and over, “it’s not your fault. It isn’t your fault. The doctor said he’s had it since birth and there is nothing we could have done, then or now” and I still can’t help but feel like yes it is my fault. and yes, I could have saved him and his sweet little life. And I argue with myself constantly about what could have been done different. The mistakes I made (whether they are really mistakes, I’ll never know because the time has passed, and the moment is gone) constantly replay in my head. If I hadn’t gone to the Hot ATL, he could have survived. If I hadn’t gone to AVN, he would have been fine. If we hadn’t taken him to Tahoe, he never would have gotten sick. But I don’t know all these things. And maybe he did eat something toxic, and nobody knew. and maybe it was my fault that this sweet little life was brought to an end. But then that voice turns on in my head saying “take a deep breath and remember what the doctor told you. Nothing could be done. Nothing could have been done. It was just his time to go” and this logic doesn’t really convince me, but at least it pushes all these other terrible thoughts out of my head, if only momentarily. And I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t want to disrespect his memory by getting another pet too soon. I don’t ever want to research my pet and find the perfect puppy, because I looked for Lunch for months before I found him, I developed a relationship with him before I even knew him. And if I do get another dog, I’ll go down to the pound and rescue one because there are so many little babies without good homes, and to put a 100% healthy dog down just to save space breaks my heart. Is there a time limit that I should look for? A day when it doesn’t make me want to cry? or is this a feeling I get to look foward to for the rest of my life. Because I hate feeling like this. Like people are walking on eggshells in order not to see me cry. And that I myself am walking on those same crushed shells trying not to think a three word sentence that always breaks me down: “it’s my fault”.
And its not. I know its not. I have to keep telling myself it’s not. But I also have to keep telling myself that I don’t smoke (yup, I’m still not smoking cigarettes and goddamn I smell pretty), so I guess it just goes to show. The battles I have within my own head and heart are so much more viscious and cruel than any crusade or any actual pain that I might go through. Because at least if I were in physical pain then I could blame it on something other than myself. On something other than my own shortcomings. Because as of now, I don’t know if I can keep something alive that I care about and love….and to have that be one’s biggest fear can be a terrible handicap in the game of life.
I just need to keep breathing. Go out back, do some goodmorning yoga, go on a little run run, and come home and paint your little sorrows and troubles away. Or at least document them in oil….

I don’t know what it is about this club. Maybe it’s the location, maybe it’s the shitty managerial team, or it could possibly be the cracked out fat girls that proudly call themselves strippers. Whatever it was, it was not good. I mean, I had been holding back, trying to behave myself, trying not to complain about the fact that I was in the room with the rest of the girls instead of my own private room…but last night was the grand finale, the final straw. As soon as i got there, Mrs. cracky mccrackster makes her way to my little portion of the mirror. Pretty soon, she gets so close to me that I can smell her cheap baby prostitute perfume, and that’s all that I smell, no air, whether it be fresh or nasty recycled strip club air….I COULDN’T FUCKING BREATHE. Never have I been offered so many drugs in one club. Never have I actually had to tell someone of a managerial type position “So, it seems your girls have a huge drug problem….guess you can’t keep your eyes on the prize all the time eh?” to which the manager replied, “we try to do what we can”. The biggest fucking cop out ever. Nice try buddy. Do the bitches work better for you cracked out? Do you really NEED to hold on to them? Are these hookers that essential to your impersonal, and rude little club?
Well, he didn’t actually have to say any of those things to relay the feeling that “penny flame you won’t be returning to this club”. and that’s mostly by my choice….I don’t like to put myself in positions where people are going out of their way to offer and bring up drugs around me and even furthermore, I don’t really like to work for people who are assholes. There were two dope people working in that club, the DJ and the guy at the door, and that’s just not a good ratio for me. The bad outweigh the good by like a million, and let me ask you, who the fuck do you turn to when in house security mad dogs you and treats you like you’re the reason all the whore’s are on crack. I’ll tell you what I did really quick. I turned to Snuggles, (and between us we have an unsaid agreement, know eachother’s idiosyncracy’s), he gave me the nod, and two seconds after I walked off that stage I walked the fuck out of that club. Fuck that place….in a big way. And all it’s nasty hookers and body personel inside. Fuck em all.
except dj and front door man.
And to the great fans that made an appearance, showing your support and love, I may not have even finished the gig if it hadn’t been for you. Never have I meet such wonderful caring fans, and after the week from hell that I’ve had, it is the good people in this world that always bring a smile back to my face, the kind people who are down to just kick it.
Only the people who paid to get into Blue Zebra can be catagorized in the better side of that humanity.

So the dynamic duo returned to Blue Zebra last night for another after show kick it session. It was really a day of recovery, just breathing, trying to smile more than cry. Trying not to feel sorry for myself. And then these two…..So we go for a ride up on mulholland to partake of a little medical relaxation and three blunts later we get back to their car at which the two present me with a gift…..an amazingly hard and unique water tobacco pipe from her store Glass Gardens. And wow. So I’m getting ready right now, it’s raining out so it will take a bit longer to get to the club for sure, and hopefully they return tonight so we can break it in. Because I don’t feel right using it for the first time without them to share…..
Amazing how people know exactly what will make you happy at your lowest times….
amazing how readable I am…..
Oh and by the way, they also got Snuggles a pipe so he didn’t feel left out. Considerate eh?

In the midafternoon, actually around 5 pm, I just happened to check my email, which just happened to have my shoot info, which no one happened to confirm me with, which happened to call for be at work by 4. I called the big man, complained a bit, (actually I should apologize for being so cross), and got my ass to Flirt for Free/Hustler Live as quick as I could. Since I was late, Kelly Kline gave me a good fucking. And as much as I love her, and as much as I love doing the show, last night was just not a good night. I’m not in the right frame of mind for on screen/live fun. It took everything I had to put on my happy face, and when I did it started to feel better. I suppose what the Llama says about projecting it until you feel it is true.
It pretty much faded the second I started to let myself not feel it. and when I walked out the door and was alone again.
So last night I danced at a little club in LA called the Blue Zebra (much smaller than I expected…) and when we walk in, snugs and I are led to the back where we are told that the room they usually use for features is broken (broken room?) and that I can have the mens room behind the dj booth. I said thank you and went to the regular girl dressing room. Fuck that stinky little room. A mens bathroom? yeah. I’m not some high class askey biatch, but goddamnit you want me to kick it in the nasty ass piss covered not even cleaned mens room? So to the regular room I went. I had never been on the stage before, so it is always a little nerve racking. Am I gonna walk straight out and fall? Does it have any wierd bumbs or ouchy spots I should know about? Whatever. I’ll do the first show barefoot, like the little hippy I am. And if I fall, I’ll just get back up.
Once onstage, and about halfway through the set, four younger patrons entered the club…three boys and one lovely lady. Well they came up to the stage and immediately started hootin and hollerin, I was like “Finally! Someone as loud as me!” Well, after the show, I come down to my little table in the back area, hang out and wait for something -mostly life- to happen. The four approach me slowly, as if I’m gonna bite them, which I suppose I would if they let me, or if that is what they wanted instead of a lapdance….on either note, they approach, and then it’s obvious. THEY ARE STONERS!
And talk about stoners eh? Well, the little lady, a girl named Amber works in a glass shop in huntington, and her man Chris is totally down for the cause. They drove all the way up from Longbeach to come get lit with a pornstar. well let me tell you…Nothing has put a bigger smile on my face in the past couple days than these kids showing up to take pictures and smoke with me. I don’t mean kids in the under 18 way, there would have been no way to get in the club, just to put it out there and under 18 has no place here. Gotta make sure you know. it warmed my pothead heart. Actually, it warmed every part of my heart. I am glad that I can make people happy. I love to make people smile, and man, we stood in the parking lot just kickin it and talkin about all the live long day, and at the end of the night, I invited them to my next House Party….which should be coming up sometime soon. In fact I should call Shanes World and talk shop. I’ve been putting it off recently, (speaking with them actually) mostly because of the little Box, but partly because of other issues I don’t care to vent here. All that said, they sent an awesome bouquet of flowers, (although not really comparable to the flowers sent by Mr. Romance, talk about unfucking real! He said they were supposed to send blue and white, but purple and white showed up….no I didn’t tell him they weren’t blue. I knew that is what he requested, and I love them all the more for the mistake because this is twice now he has attempted to get me blue flowers when they are out of season and nobody has them, so no reason in getting him flustered. Funny, I knew that is what he requested right when they showed up, even before he had said “how do you like them? I know your favorite color is blue….”
I digress. These four kids made my fucking night, along with the surprise end of the night dance…a gentleman we’ll call “mike”. He got two dances, smelled nice, was polite to all hell, and I enjoy being sexy for men like that. Dances aside. Just life in general. It’s strange, and I suppose somewhat cliche, but I’ve dated some assholes in my life, and I’ve dated some diamond in the roughs, the undercovers, the nice guys, and to further perpetuate and possible add to the old saying, “Nice guys finish last….but at least they finish.” But really, and truly, back to my point, the two other boys that Chris and Amber were with were dope. If you spliced them together you’d have the ultimate californian. The Stoney Valentina of southern california~light hair easy style, occasionally riled up like a great set of waves in an absolutely calm sea. And then you have Mr. Flamboastin who is representing the Northern Califoolia way in the only way we do….LIKE YEEE YEE YEE YEEE-that’s Richmond!!!! Together it was the picture of harmony. A ying and Yang. Just imagine all the dope things Cali could do if we would just come together like Stoney Valentina and Mr. Flamboastin??? Wow. We could possible succeed from the union. Which would be dope. Well I’ll get in touch with them and they can run for as a biparty, and they could be bigovernor, and no I don’t mean in a gay way. Just that old prefix.
So, I suppose that during this next little while you will be getting rants from me. My mind won’t sit still, and I know it’s because the sweet little Box, and I’m just trying to do anything I can to not think about him, so these entries may be discomboobled, and fragmented. But I suppose that’s everyone’s thought process…..occassionally fragmented. Well, I should get on with my day. I have to buy a new thing of patches, because for some reason I’m out (although I haven’t used 14, oh, snugs had two and I suppose I switch em sometimes) and I should also go for a run. If I’m going to get healthy in my lungs than goddarnit I’m gonna use em. That and I had a dream about being grossely obese once that just never left me. Whatta shame. Maybe I’m just big boned.
So I woke this moring to crisp air, a clear beautiful sky, and birds singing-which I normally can’t hear over the roar of nearby road traffic. and my cat was purring in bed with me, snuggly and warm. And I know there are worse things in the world, and I try to think of them instead, and then I smile because I’m lying in bed with my frenchdoors open and my waterfall flowing, birds and a fresh new day. I smile because I’m trying to think of as many terrible things as possible at 7:30am on a glorious January day in what could be a beautifully surprising new year.
I hope everyone else is as confused inside as me. It would make me feel alot less strange. and certainly a lot less lonely.
Thank you to everyone who made me smile yesterday. I couldn’t have done it withouth you…

I don’t really know how I’m supposed to feel. I heard the alarm going off at 6am, and then Tye9 came in and gave me a big hug, to wake me up. I didn’t remember till that exact moment. I guess that is the beauty of sleep. The only reason I got any is because I doused myself with a large helping of 420honey, and mucinex (because I quit smoking). Yes. I still haven’t smoked a cigarette. Day….what….a million? Okay, more like 5 or 4 or it doesn’t really matter because if I don’t smoke through this I won’t smoke through anything, at least I think.
It was funny. I talked to alot of people yesterday about my little guy and only two people really had something to say that got to me, made me feel a little better when I woke up, and then there were two people there taking care of me all the time. One thing Bud Bleeze said to me was this “Just know that nothing I can say can compete with the questions in your head…just know that I’ll try and answer every one till you wear yourself out and can relax”…and with all the human beings that have passed away in my life, never has anyone so succinctly replied to a question that hadn’t even been asked. The second thing was from Stephanie Swift, (because strangely enough, on my way out of the pot store I ran into her and her man, so they dropped by the casa to chill for a minute), and after I had said something along the lines of “maybe I’m just not a good pack leader…”(ultimately feeling sorry for myself)…she put her hand on my shoulder, and her little mini pin Beemer looked me square in the eyes, and she said softly “Penny, don’t let this one thing let you miss out on years of happiness with little pups because they can be your best friends…” And they are both right. Nothing can fix it. The questions don’t have answers, and if they did, I don’t know I could ever grasp them. And I can’t not ever have anything again in my life just because it’s gonna die one day because everything dies, whether it has a long life or not ultimately is not up to me. On the most fundamental levels of life, I have no control. I can control what I put into my body, how I act, how I react, I can water my plants, I can watch my puppy and kitty every single moment of every single day, I can do all of these things, but that is it. That final moment? It just isn’t up to me. So everyday has to be the best day. Everyday has to be our walk to Coffee and him bouncing and prancing and being the happiest puppy ever. Every night has to be a snuggle festival in my bed, with Sensei, my snuggling kitty, and every moment has to matter.
Still, through all these words, through all this optimism, my keyboard is wet with tears, and I have to go get a towel now, so I don’t fry anything.

Today, the little boy of my life, sir LunchBox meatball Flame passed away around 6pm, california time. It breaks my heart. I prayed all night and all morning, and afternoon, and waited on his kidney results to come in and when they did it was just more bad news. His BUN had stayed the same and another thing they measure, (i honestly tune out things I don’t like, selective short term memory) had doubled. He was in no good way. He was still my little angel. I just, well, holding him in my arms i knew he was just so tired, and just done with life. He nibbled at my fingernails, and I told him to bite as hard as he wants, and then a few kisses and a sigh. Tye9 showed up so I wasn’t alone, and Snugs came back with a blunt-I had asked him to go get me one because I don’t want to smoke a cigarette-and they both waited. The doctor said that if I took him home I’d have to administer shots into the skin a couple times a day, and pretty much keep constant watch on him. She said it could be a week or a month, but at the rate his test had increased it was more likely less. How fucked up is that. My poor little puppy. I just wanted him to be alive, and to live and bounce like he used to and I just don’t understand. I don’t understand how I could watch some body die a couple weeks ago on the freeway and not really shed a tear and my puppy dies and I can’t stop crying. I hate it i hate it i hate it. I can’t make it better either. Nothing makes it better. Not even Abba Zabba. Trust me. The peanut butter is salty enough, but with my tears it’s just too much. And I always want to make stupid calls when I’m upset, but I’m not going to. And I’m not going to drink either, because that just never helps. But I will make myself some tea. And smoke another blunt.
The worst part is that he is my phone screen saver. And every time I open my phone to call someone, I see his sweet face and can’t remember what I was doing. And what’s worse than the worst part is that I feel wrong to change it. Because I want to see his little face. I want him to be my little friend. I want to take care of him and be his pack leader.
But I suppose it just wasn’t meant to be. My sweet little Lunch, may he rest in peace.

So I spoke with the Doctor this morning about sweet little Lunch. Actually, I spoke with her assistant, and she said that Lunch’s sugar levels were holding, and that he seemed happy and alert, (except for the little lampshade on his head poor little guy) but that his kidney test wouldn’t be back until around noon. I haven’t prayed this much in a long time. Last time I honestly and sincerely prayed, and never to anything in particular-as far as religion is concerned- it was for my Granddaddy. I was about 13 years old and he had his 3rd heart attack and was going in for Triple bypass surgery, and I prayed. I bargained, seven years of my life for another seven years of his. I just wanted to make it into college during his life, so he would know that I’m ok. He was a statistic’s professor at SDSU, and always “education, education, education.” Well, strangely enough, my prayers were answered. He passed away during my second year of college, I was doing great, and he was so proud. My mom didn’t do the college thing, a little rebellious really, so he was more than stoked her first baby did.
A bit tangential, I apologize, but I prayed for Lunch last night. Actually constantly. And still am. I don’t want him to die, and I don’t want him to live in pain, and not be a regular little happy puppy. Today will be a very difficult day.
Oh. and later, I’m dancing at the Blue Zebra, in North Hollywood, later tonight actually. It’s a feature night. Yup. Feature dancing. Feature show. Gotta make some money to make little lunch as comfy as possible if he gets to spend the next little time here.
Okay, I need to go make a flyer for this feature show, definately need to do something as far as advertising goes. I’ve just been so confused. So hectic.