Tag Archives: alice in wonderland

Run, Rabbit, Run. Dig that Hole. Forget the Sun.


After a day of sleeping and eating Thai Food, I had yet another day off. I knew I had to clean. Someone gave me some pills, as it was explained to me, half speed/half MDMA. I thought this would help me focus on organizing my space.

I was plowing through the Best Oscar nominees for Best Picture and had started “Tree of Life” the night before. The thing is, my computer is short on a little memory, so the picture and audio smear and stutter when I have too many applications going. You play a surrealist film by Terrence Malick when you are just half asleep, and you don’t know what the hell is going on.

Playing it again after taking a hybrid narcotic was . . . indescribably confusing and oddly fascinating.

Now, before the pill had sunk into the cushioned hull of my lower torso, I had realized someone who commented on my reused profile pic had since defriended me. When? I don’t know, but I liked her. I thought she was nice.

I shot her an email:

Me: Just noticed I am no longer a friend? I always accidentally offend people.

Sorry for whatever it was.

Her: Hey,

You didn’t do anything specific, its was more my trying not to offend you.

Me: Its hard to offend me . . . but we can keep it vague if you prefer.

Happy V Day

Her: I can be honest with you if you wish but I imagine you have heard it all before.

Huh. Well . . .

I wrote: Wow. That sounds . . . um, not friendly?

Gosh, its a shame, cause I really liked you. I guess I am just an asshole.

If you read my last post, you know I was already in a dark place about everything social and professional. Basically, anything that has to do with people. You know that knot that forms in your stomach, to help prepare you for a real punch to the gut? It was forming.

Luckily, something else was growing faster . . . the drug.

I laid down on my bed and watched as, from what I remember, a soul ascended from the Earth and spun back into the energy field of our universe.

I felt warm tears spring down my face, and I felt good. I felt right.

One pill makes you larger,
And one pill makes you small,
And the ones that mother gives you don’t do anything at all.

Go ask Alice, when she’s ten feet tall.


The video player indicated I was only halfway through the video, despite feeling like the entire day went by and this movie was never-ending.

The room looked dirty. Piles of clothes in opposite corners.

I looked at the keyboard. Was it really that dirty?

When logic and proportion,
Have fallen sloppy dead.

Another email from my defriend:

“;-) I’m not sure if its friendly or not.
You aren’t an asshole, there is just a little too much self imposed drama in your life and a lot of days it was taking all myself control not to tell you to knock it off and grow up. I didn’t think it was any of my business nor did I think it would make a bit of difference in your life but I also was having a hard time watching it without butting in so I defriended.

Thats all. I still read your blog sometimes and I do hope u get published someday….

So there it is…I’ve officially done what I was trying not to do, I hope you aren’t offended.”

Well . . . again, another person who has trouble tolerating me personally liked my blog. Jesus Christ, thank God for this thing or else my self-esteem would fall through the floor.

I wrote:
Not offended at all. I could use more friends like you, honestly.

Then I updated my status: “If I knew today was the day I would discover the origin of life and man vs. ego, I would have never sent that email this morning asking why someone defriended me.”

It was getting difficult to type.

I pinged back Abe:

Abe: So –can we have some time together today

Me: I need you here
right now
I took the pill
please come here

Abe: just one

Me: that is all I need
I can not distinguish fantasy
from reality

Abe: come on

Me: I need a fucking cigarette
but I cannot drive
I am very happy
but I am not at all in control
of anything
I need you
3:33 PM serious

Abe: ok

Me: Come to me

Abe: if thats possible

Me: I comandeth thee

Abe: come to me now?


Abe: sexy

Me: I need you here now
like right now
3:34 PM I was hoping you got the psychic post it and were already here
I seriously need you
;like seriously

Abe: I got my car done

Me: I need your help
please come here now

Abe: I need you help with what?

Me: my perception of reality
the walls are moving
I am hallucinating
and laughing
3:35 PM and I think I have tapped into a million answers
but I might just be losing my mind
the keyboard is floating

Abe: OK just chill

Me: Abe

Abe: dont go anywhere

I cant
I need help
come here
pleasure me
tell me this
I see things
this movie
like is it the computer or my mind


Me: making this movie do this

3:36 PM Abe: write it down

Me: I cant see my hands

Abe: Im leaving soon

Me: they are vibrating

Abe: Do you have any food?

Me: no
they are almost gone
I need a cigarette
3:37 PM Abe: You better chilli and not go baserko on me
Im about to drive throught a shit load of traffic

Me: hurry
3:38 PM I am breaking through
to another plane of thought
but I need American Spirits
I wont make it to the 711

Abe: You are tweeked out– got that

Me: happy
come here
co,me now

Abe: Breath slower and chillax

Around this time, I walked out to smoke a cigarette to steady my mind. The steps were bright and crooked, just like my little apartment.

I climbed into my car, dug through and found a cigarette butt to use up.

Looking around, trash on the ground with 3 empty coffee cups, mail on my dash, clothes from a shoot in the back seat by the foot rest with chewed up tennis balls.

I laughed, “Is this your low? You are ridiculous! Who lives like this? A new low. Ok, why not?”

I went into the upper apartment to shower off the smell of smoke, and wondered if I should not trip where my roommate killed himself. The fact of the matter was, my toilet was in there, so it would have to do.

I stuck my key in the lock. The lock got large for me, so I would have better aim. When the key was inside, it shrunk again.

And if you go off chasing rabbits,
And you know you’re going to fall,
Tell em’ a hookah-smoking caterpillar,
Has given you the call.

Go ask Alice, when she was just small.

On the toilet, I sat across from a new roll of toilet paper that was fluctuating size as veins formed in the walls. There is a boombox Alan gave me with one CD inside of it, “Nirvana UnPlugged.” He gave it to me last August. I am still haven’t changed the CD since I am not sick of the album.

The grain of the cement in the walls surfaced out of the dull yellow paint, and I felt warm water all over my body.  I listened to Kurt Cobain sing and the accordion in “Jesus Doesn’t Want Me for a Sunbeam” crank notes out all over the bathroom, like the Earth was contracting and grinding.

The next track was a cover of David Bowie’s “The Man Who Sold the World”:

“I laughed and shook his hand, and made my way back home
I searched for a foreign land, for years and years I roamed
I gazed a gazeless stare, we walked a million hills
I must have died alone, a long long time ago

Who knows? not me
We never lost control
You’re face to face
With the Man who Sold the World.”

I thought about Kurt Cobain and what an icon he became. I thought about Jim Morrison, “This is the land of the Pharaoh died.”

Was the Pharaoh Kurt?


What about Egypt?

I could see it in my mind, as veins pulsed throughout the shower and the walls slowly, calmly convulsed.

We are from Egypt. There we understand it didn’t matter who you were. Celebrity is bullshit. We are all here to spark movement in the a dragon . . . in a beast. To promote the evolution of life. To enlighten.

I went back downstairs to my apartment and laid down on the bed. I could feel Egypt. The work, how hard we all worked there.

Then I thought, my dogs were there with me. We were all buried together and now they are here with me again, in the next life.

*Footnote: Throughout the history of Ancient Egypt, animals were highly respected. In no other culture have animals been as influential in so many aspects of life, nor has any culture depicted animals as often in their artwork or writing. Egyptians believed that animals were crucial to both physical and spiritual survival—vital to physical survival because they were a major source of food and to spiritual survival based on how well a person treated animals during their life on earth. The Egyptian religion taught of life after death. In order to determine a person’s admittance or denial to the afterlife, the gods would ask a series of judgment questions. One of these crucial questions would be whether they had mistreated any animals during their life on earth. Because of this religious belief, the killing of an animal was considered a serious crime punishable by death.

-“A Few Remarks upon the Religious Significance of Animals in Ancient Egypt by H. Velde

Where the hell was Abe?

I got up and looked out the window. Light kept chasing over my window, like headlights brighter than the sun.


My head pressed against the window glass, but it was open. There was no glass. There was a liquid film between me and the rest of the world, and I knew I couldn’t go out there.

Remember, what the dormouse said . . . Feed your head . . . Feed your head.

So I put the movie back on.

And waited.

The light went away, and the cars outside changed. One was there all day. A few left and new ones reappeared down my dirt road. The cool air played with the water in my hair.

My animals were gorgeous. They slept and listened for intruders.

Brad was spun out of gold thread.

Once upon a time there lived a miller who had a beautiful daughter. One day the miller had to visit the king’s castle. While he was there, he happened to meet the king face to face. The king stopped and spoke to the miller. Hoping to impress the king, the miller boldly told him that he had a daughter who could spin straw into gold.

“Oh,” said the king, “that is indeed a wonderful gift. Tomorrow you must bring your daughter to my castle, so she may spin some gold for me.”

Then the miller was sorry he had lied, but he had to do as the king ordered.

This particular king loved gold more than anything else, so he was very pleased at the prospect of turning straw into gold. He led the poor girl into one of the giant castle rooms. There, in the middle of the room, stood a spinning wheel, and near it was a great heap of straw.

The king turned to the miller’s daughter, and said, “There is your spinning wheel, and here is the straw. If you do not spin all of it into gold by morning, your head shall be cut off.” Then the king left the room and locked the door.

That’s a bummer.

Very clever to spin my little dog into gold and give him to a poor girl like me.


Esther went to the window, and came back. Her cropped ears moved like triangles independent of her body. Her big Disney eyes watched me as she paraded back and forth. Triangle horse.

Abe arrived.

I said, “Thank God, I need a cigarette.”

He handed me one and I went outside. The sun was setting over the mountain across from my apartment. I smiled.

He said, “What’s going on?”

I said, “I am tripping BALLS, man!”

He said, “Did you eat anything today?”

I said, “No, but I have had 6 cups of coffee.”

He chuckled, “Great.”

Then I added, “I have been trying to talk myself into getting that box of cereal out of my car for the last 6 hours.”

He laughed, “Just calm down, alright. I brought some bread.”

I said, “I am calm. I am happy. I mean, I have so much to tell you. This day started with me sending off an email to this girl who defriended me. And I asked why.”

He groaned, “Awww.”

I said, “No, its ok. It really is. We only ever had this very awkward Thanksgiving dinner with her husband so it really doesn’t matter. But thats the point. None of that bullshit matters. And I can see it now. It doesn’t matter if people don’t like me.”

I forgot about the one other time we hung out, she and her friends met me for a pedicure and left before paying the bill. So I had to make the salon call her and tell her to come back, since I wasn’t going to pay for everyone’s pedicure. They said it was an accident, but it was a bizarre, and unforgettably awkward accident.

Abe, “I think people do like you, they just . . . don’t want to get caught up in the storm.”

I nodded.

I said, “Its ok. I am used to people avoiding me.”

Inside, I laid out on my bed. With all the dogs and my balance, I was having trouble not sliding off of my bed.

Abe pulled out the folding chair across from my bed and sat down.

He said, “When you were young, you were dealing with emotionally mature things around other people on a different level. So, you got on their nerves. No big deal.”

I nodded and slid off my bed. I laughed, and kept trying to get back on, but Maggie wouldn’t move.

I laughed, “I mean . . . this is ridiculous . . . living like this. I am on a pile all the time. Piles there, a pile in my car. I mean .  . . this really is a low for me.”

I slid off again and we both laughed until we couldn’t stop tears.

He said, “Its good to laugh with you. Release, that’s what it is.”

I climbed back on and slid back on the far corner of the bed, behind Maggie, Esther and Brad. All three of them stared at him.

Abe, “They are protecting you.”

I smiled.

Me, “Alan said Brad protects my sleeping body.”

Abe, “Good!”

I said, “I have discovered that we are from Egypt.”

He said, “What did you take?”

I said, “I was told it was half speed and half MDMA but . . . I am full on hallucinating, man. I mean, more than I ever did with LSD.”

He said, “I don’t like you taking drugs from people. You have to be careful.”

Me, “I know, but I trust this person.”

He cut a pill in half and swallowed. Then he combined the discarded half of fine white powder into another capsule. He forcefully reminded me not to forget which pill was disproportionately more than the others.

Me, “This is pretty strong, I am not sure you should take it.”

He shrugged.

I said, “I have been trying to watch this movie for the last 12 hours.”

He said, “You have been doing other things, that’s all. And pausing the movie.”

I said, “But I deliberately kept myself from pausing . . . I thought.”

I played “Tree of Life” and the characters sputtered across the screen and odd, distorted screaming bombarded the soundtrack.

Abe, “Turn it off! Turn it off!”

I did.

He was feeding the dogs bread.

Maggie’s face looked drawn, with her huge caramel eyes staring up at Abe and long stretches of drool falling from the corner of her mouth to the floor.

Abe fed her one piece after another, and we laughed at how desperate for food she looked. (please note: she is on a diet)

We laughed so hard, he ended up handing her the whole roll and said, “Just take it, Maggie, take it all.”

She did and we wiped tears from our eyes. The laughing was deliciously mad.

He laid down next to me. We lay next to each other as night quieted the delightful shadows dancing around my walls. A web formed over my ceiling, turning red and green. Nothing was scary.

Abe, “Am I going to have to beat up all your ex-boyfriends?”

I said, “I don’t think any of them want to fight you.”

He thrust out a few ninja chops in the air then put his hand on his chest and I saw that he was about to cry.  In the two years I have known Abe, I have never seen him get emotional.

I put my arm across him for comfort and whispered that everything was ok.

He said, “I just felt all the things I had done wrong and all the things I have done right meet at a seam. And I felt ok about it all. Like I was dying.”

I nodded, “I felt that, too.”

Then he said, “I let down your Daddy. He trusted me. And your Mom liked me. Now, they don’t.”

I said, “Well, my father said I should stop sleeping with you, because you are wasting my time.”

He nodded with his eyes closed and squinting. Like the answer was in the back of his eye lids, if he just concentrated hard enough.

I shook him, “Don’t worry. Its life, that’s all. I am changing my whole name. I will be Rita.”

Abe, “Thats a terrible idea.”

Me, “Not Rita. All . . . All Things.”

He laughed and repeated it like a song. I can still feel his throat vibrate against my cheek.

He sat up, “Is there heroin in this? This is intense.”

I said, “I don’t . . . think so.”

He got up and started shaking his head and his body, trying to put his soul back in place.

I sized him up, “Hey . . . Shaman up! You gotta shaman up! (silence) I can’t give this drug to anyone. This is too intense. You need to really know how to keep your head. Luckily, I know what the hell I am doing.”

Abe shook again, “I’m alright.”

He offered me another cigarette and I said, “I can’t take cigarettes anymore. They are hurting me.”

He stood outside as my dogs urinated in the dirt pile that we call ‘My courtyard.’

Abe, “I can see into your little world. Brad does look like a little Prince. (he started laughing) And Esther looks like . . . a horse.”

Me, “That’s right! She is a triangle horse. You are on my trip or something.”

Abe chuckled, nodded, sucked the end of his cigarette, “I see it.”

Then he said, “I wonder what Trent is doing tonight?”

I said, “People always like being around Trent and me when they are on drugs, I think because we make people feel comfortable. Then they sober up and somehow its all our fault they are who they are, or they did what they did. Like . . . what the fuck?”

Abe wondrously chuckled again.

Then we made out to the “Ten Commandments” and he said, “I just want to see the Pharaoh die.”

I said, “That’s right. Land of the Pharaoh died. What Doors song is that . . . I know it. Now listen to this, I’ll tell you about the Texas . . . tell you about the Texas .  . . radio. WASP, that’s the song!”

I played it off YouTube and a live performance came up with them, on scratchy black and white film with faulty audio.

Jim Morrison held the microphone close to his mouth like he was waiting for a kiss. We listened to the song:

I wanna tell you ’bout Texas Radio and the Big Beat
Comes out of the Virginia swamps
Cool and slow with plenty of precision
With a back beat narrow and hard to master.

Some call it heavenly in its brilliance.
Others, mean and rueful of the Western dream.
I love the friends I have gathered together on this thin raft.
We have constructed pyramids in honor of our escaping.
This is the land where the Pharaoh died.

The video would end abruptly. The browser would spin and a new Doors video came up.

I said, “Its funny, I have never seen these videos. All this time, I never thought about watching old videos of them on YouTube.”

He said, “Are you done? Are you not tripping anymore?”

I looked at my computer monitor. It was a close-up of Jim and he winked, then smiled right at me before continuing the song.

I said, “No . . . I am still hallucinating.”

Abe said, “You work tomorrow. You should sleep.”

Me, “I am fine. I will be fine tomorrow.”

It was 3am and the songs spun through old albums. The Doors looked happy at times and out of their element in others.

I sang song after song and said, “I know this music better than anything now. That’s strange.”

Its not as if I am an expert or have a photographic (or lyrical) memory of every note, but its fair to say, I know their music better than anything. And I totally blanked on the lyric that led me on my pill induced journey.

I turned it off and put on internet radio. A Doors song came on.

Me, “See? They follow me everywhere.”

Abe said, “She has good taste in music.”

The fourth hour passed and my eyes got heavy. Abe held me and told me he loved me.

I can see and understand that men love my experience, not necessarily me. The reckless abandon . . . its a fun place to visit.


What wert thou, dream-Alice in thy foster-father’s eyes? How shall he picture thee? Loving first, loving and gentle: loving as a dog (forgive the prosaic simile, but I know no earthly love so pure and perfect) and gentle as a fawn: then courteous—courteous to all, high or low, grand or grotesque, King or Caterpillar, even as though she were herself a King’s daughter, and her clothing wrought of gold: then trustful, ready to accept the wildest impossibilities with all that utter trust that only dreamers know; and lastly, curious—wildly curious, and with the eager enjoyment of Life that comes only in the happy hours of childhood, when all is new and fair, and when Sin and Sorrow are but names — empty words signifying nothing!


Later, I found out the pill didn’t have speed but rather 2ci. I feel it is the responsibility of the person handing you the pill to be upfront about what is inside it, but he admitted he never wanted me to be the guinea pig.

Thank God, I didn’t give it blindly on brief description to anyone else.


We fell asleep and in the morning, we hiked the dogs up the mountain behind my place.

I said, “I can forgive the strippers remark. Its that you are holding out for this girl from your past.”

He said, “No, but you two are connected. Her numbers are 201. Yours is one more, 202. Your names are the exact same numbers. And I thought she may be in Simi Valley or someplace north.”

Me, “Simi Valley?”

Abe, “North county. And you are here. Its like I manifested it.”

Me, “You haven’t kept up your side of the promises, either. I asked you in the beginning, my kiss comes with the promise of a timely response. You went days without contacting me again.”

Abe, “I know, I know, I am a shitty boyfriend.”

Me, “Yes you are. Which is why I am seeing another ex, because neither of you are good enough as one fulltime boyfriend, so both of you must be combined to make one whole boyfriend.”

Abe, “Great, so you’re seeing Alan and you are seeing Frank.”

Me, “No, Frank isn’t an ex. I saw Alan again. That’s it.”

He was quiet.

I added, “Nothing is serious.”


We went down to the closest cafe for a mediocre cup of coffee. Sitting together in the sun, we smiled at each other. I felt broken out of my depression. Liberated from all my mortal neuroticism.

Then, I asked about his cousin’s wedding . . . I knew it was coming up.

I said, “In two weeks? That’s soon. And who are you taking?”

He said, “My brother and I decided to forego our plus ones so other people could go to the wedding.”

My lips tightened.

He said, “We weren’t together when we got the invites. (silence) I can see you are upset about this.”

My voice was cracking, “I really believed you were going to invite me.”

I took a moment and really just kept repeating that.

He said, “Don’t take it so personally.”

I got up and paid the bill. As I walked to my car, he shuffled to keep up and I said, “You don’t want me to be apart of your family. Same thing with Thanksgiving and Christmas . . . you don’t want me as a girlfriend. You just want me as a mistress.”

He said, “Come on, don’t get upset.”

I looked him in the eye and said, “I never want to see you again.”

I opened my car door and said, “Give me a cigarette.”

When we worked on a film set together, in the beginning, before I ever knew that Abe would be a major love of my life, he came out to me during a night shoot and asked for a cigarette.

I gave him my last one.

He said, “No, I don’t want to take your last one.”

I said, “Please, it will help me quit.”

Two or three weeks later, my flirtation had grown and I was determined to get a date with him.

When we wrapped that weekend, I asked for a cigarette. He only had one left.

We both recognized the moment and groaned.

I said, “Keep it.”

He said, “No, this is about fate. You have to take it.”

So I did.

Now, two years later, in a parking lot in Sylmar with nothing left, he opened his pack and there was one cigarette left.

I said, “This is the perfect way to end the story.”

My fingers plucked it out of his hand and I drove off.

The fury, at myself for letting my mind get wrapped up in him over and over again. Its fucking insane.

Not to mention, he totally killed my New World buzz.

How quickly we slip back into life’s little box of small ideas. I tried so hard to remember what it felt like, to float over my worries about who thought what about me, but all my self-hatred just struck me again like hard light in a dim room.

Someone this afternoon said to me in the Doggie Daycare break room, “Its the difference between logic and emotion.”

Your name, your personality, your identity is all really irrelevant. Its what you inspire. Its what others learn from you and alter, so there is improvement.

Its the love that ruins me. I am smarter than this. Abe is a fucking waste of time.

Higher thought, Alice!

Then I got the text:

“Will you come to my cousin’s wedding with me, move in with me and your pack of dogs and have a magic baby with me?”


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My Birthday Princess Weekend: Pt. 1 . . . Playing Hearts

My birthday weekend was big. I needed a week to process everything that happened, just because I find myself falling down wormholes of thought about it all. The men, the girl, the game.

Thursday, Dora, Mitch and I all went to Disneyland. I have a friend who works there that gave us entrance for free.

We had the day off, I needed to treat Mitch for taking care of my dogs.

When I told Dora we were going to Disneyland, she screamed and covered her face like she just won something fantastic from a contest she didn’t know she entered. Her dog was so happy, she danced for us. If you ever want to make a 22 year-old girl happy, take her to Disneyland.

We got there, Dora and I both in tiaras, and my friend got us in and gave me a pin that said it was my birthday.

Throughout the day, I was addressed as “Princess” and told Happy Birthday by everyone.

I said to the wenches of Sleeping Beauty’s castle, “Its not technically my birthday until tomorrow. But what the heck.”

Wench #1, “Make a whole weekend of it. Why does your birthday have to be one day?”

Ok, I realize this must sound incredibly dorky of a 34 year-old, prancing around Disneyland in a tiara, (with face paint) (yeah . . . seriously) and being moved and inspired by these little token comments meant for children.

I was going to make a weekend of it. I had a few days off in a row. I was going to do whatever I wanted to do for 4 whole days.

Someone at the end of Pinocchio’s Daring Journey said, “May all your dreams come true.”

I said, “Why can’t people say that to each other in the real world? That is such a wonderful thing to wish someone.”

My one requirement is that everyone go through Storybookland with me.

We had those adult kind of conversations while waiting in line, sometimes oblivious of the 4 year-old staring back at us:

Winnie the Poo

Mitch, “I always identified with piglet. Small, timid. And he has a huge cock. That’s what I hear.”


Dora, “I always had sexual fantasies about Darth Vader. Something about him . . .”

Alice and Wonderland

Me, “Do you know Lewis Carroll was an opium abusing pedophile?”

(*footnote, new findings suggest Carroll used laudanum, a legal opiate used to treat his migraines)

It’s a Small World

Mitch, “You know, Walt Disney was a huge anti-Semite and that’s why Israel isn’t represented?”

Mitch took us all out to lunch at the restaurant on The Pirates of the Caribbean. You know, that restaurant in the dark, where you see people at tables from the ride and always wonder how they got there? Its called the Blue Bayou, you enter through New Orleans Square and its about $30 for the vegan  entree.

Yeah. Yikes.

The waiter was a large, black man named Michael. When he took over our table, I reviewed my menu and then said to Dora and Mitch, “I want a black man for my birthday. I am a princess and that’s my wish.”

Dora, “Oh Jesus.”

Me, “I like the blacks because . . . they’ve suffered.”

Our waiter returned, “So no whip cream on that chocolate mousse?”

I nodded, “Its free with my birthday?”

He smiled and nodded.

Dora said, “You can’t have that! Its not vegan.”

I said, “Fuck it. I am a princess and in a land of suspended reality. I am gonna do it.”

When I finished the entree, Michael the waiter snuck up behind me and said, “Are you ready for that mousse?”

And in a low growl, I groaned, “MMMMMM HMMMMMMM!”

He brought me my mousse, I made a wish and then made love to my mouth for three heavenly spoonfuls. The rest went to Mitch.

At the end of lunch, the waiter said, “Can I give you a hug? You are such a good sport.”

I laughed, and we hugged . . . twice.

When Michael left our table, I said, “He’s gay.”

Dora nodded in agreement.


After Disneyland, we were all going to meet with Rochelle, another Doggie Daycare veteran/employee, at a dive in Los Feliz called the Drawing Room. Her birthday was ending and mine just beginning.

We invited everyone from Doggie Daycare, and I posted a little something on Facebook. No one showed but Mitch, Dora and Rochelle.

I didn’t really care at first. I never have birthday parties because people never showed up in high school, much less elementary school. I just don’t want to have anything to do with facilitating a meeting by popularity.

As the night waned, and I could see the disappointment on Rochelle’s face, my stomach turned at the thought of all the Doggie Daycare parties I forced myself to go to, tired and filthy from work. Some of the people who pushed for me to be entertainment at their parties, didn’t even bother to write a Happy Birthday on my Facebook wall. I tried pushing it to the back of my mind, but that nagging feeling . . . of being the clown and not a friend . . . that got under my skin.

The juke box had “Father Figure” playing, I had a Fat Tire in my hand and I wasn’t going to let anything drag me down . . . except maybe when all your friends go outside to smoke for 20 minutes at a time . . . leaving you alone at the bar.

So, there I sat alone. No text or call from Abe. That got under my skin even more.

It was past midnight now, I was officially 34. There was no kiss. There was no family baked cake. There was no revelation. There was only some old school hip hop playing, a few mildly good-looking strangers flirting with me and another drink in front of me.

So, I got annoyed.

The men who kept approaching me from all ends of the bar, were ignored, cut short or offered some cold conversation to pass my time. I realized I was being slightly bitchy to them. I just don’t need more MEN in my life!

While we are on the subject, there was a guy there.  He was slightly bloated, pale, had a beard and was wearing some hip, vintage, army such and such. He had on a military hat the lesbian bartender stole for the evening. He seemed intelligent, with a splash of sarcasm.

I politely answered his questions, but didn’t really dive into who this guy was.

However, Dora came in and got his attention. He quipped to me, “Oh, now you can acknowledge me … ok, I get it.” I didn’t believe I was intentionally neglecting HIM . . . but I just didn’t want to make that night about picking up guys.

I actually had the thought that I would go on a date with this guy, and how he had no idea how interesting and funny I was yet. We were still in that early phase where men underestimate me, which usually gives me some kind of advantage. But Dora got him. She was interested, she made him feel attractive and she got his number.

I was a little bitter about it, even though really there was no reason for those two not to hit it off- other than the fact that he is 15 years older than her, far more educated and experienced and they really won’t have anything in common, not even a radio station. None of that matters to a man in his mid-thirties with a beer belly, all that matters is, how did he put it, “Look at those eyes.”

The feminine guy, who was hanging out in the corner playing all the late 80s hip hop, came up and some how got to spanking me. I really don’t know how it started, but I was determined to get 34 spankings that night. I thought they would come from Dora. Instead, I got about 12 from a drunk stranger before I asked him to stop.

He made a pass at me.

I said, “I thought you were gay.”

He said, “I will show you how gay I am” and then he kissed me.

I said, “Yeah, I still think you are gay.”

He said, “Anytime you want to come over, I will show you how not gay I am.”

I said, “Alright, um, it doesn’t really matter. So you aren’t gay. Doesn’t really make a difference to me.”

He got frustrated and turned away from me.

I left.

I was in a shitty mood.

I walked outside and bummed a cigarette off of the Military Hat, 30 something making a move on my roommate. He, of course, smoked the exact same cigarettes as me. At the time, I took this to be a sign that we were perfect for each other. Didn’t he know I can never go on a date with him NOW after hitting on my roommate?

They were “involved” I guess you could put it.

Me, “Excuse me while I find someone a little closer to my age.” And I walked over to the white haired gentleman smoking a pipe on the other side of the entrance. They giggled at my punch line.

I told him it was my birthday.

The Older Gentleman, “What is your birth date? The year?”

I told him, then said, “Are you an astrologist?”

He shook his head and said, “Numerologist. I need your name, first and last.”

I gave it to him and said, “Its 7 and 7.”

Older Gent, “Ah yes, you are an original spirit. You don’t even now how original you are, but that’s your journey. You infect the men in your life. You infect them. You show them a world of emotion and life, and they don’t know what to do with it, so they try to dominate you.”

Me, “I thought I was just attracted to dominating men.”

Older Gent, “No, they don’t know what to do with you, so they try to control you. That’s all they do.”

At this point, two Southern Americans came up to me asking to bum a light. I offered my lit cigarette instead. One of the dirty South Americans pressed his fingers on either side of my butt as he held it up to his fresh tobacco and inhaled.

Me, “Did you wash your hands recently, because your fingers are on my filter.”

He simply walked away.

Me, “You’re welcome.”

Older Gent, “The male ego is delicate. Show some compassion.”

Me, “I have lots of compassion. I rescue animals.”

Older Gent, “Having compassion for animals is easy. Having compassion for other human beings is difficult.”

Dirty South American from a distance, “Thank you for the smoke.”

Me, “You’re welcome. I am trying to develop more compassion for the male ego.”

Dora jumped in my car and off we went back to Sylmar. I was quiet. I could tell my sour mood made her uncomfortable.

She kept going on about Pot Belly, “He seems really smart, doesn’t he? I got his number. And he has a job, which is good, right?”

I nodded. What a schmuck that guy was. Its not Dora’s fault. We had a good day otherwise.

At the bar, I texted Abe a frowny face.

He wrote back: “I am not having a good week. Call you tomorrow.”

I asked to swing by on my way to San Diego.

He asked why.

I wrote: “Because its my birthday.”


Then I wrote: “FUCK YOU”

He wrote: “Happy Birthday.”

I do adore our little exchanges.

So I got home, packed up and took off around 3am, tipsy from 3 beers and a free birthday shot.

Kids, do not drive drunk.

Adults, have you ever been alone and freaking out on your birthday and all you can think is, “I got to get the hell out of here!”?

I drove and drove and drove, and it felt great. Driving in the middle of the night, wide awake from the sugar in my alcohol and the sting of being alone on my birthday.

Abe texted: “Did you drive down?”

Me: “Yeah, but who cares.”

Abe: “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Me: “Cause no one loves me.” Hearts.

(footnote* “Hearts” is a highly sarcastic remark the women at Doggie Daycare make towards each other when punctuating an acidic remark, asking one to do their job or simply passing in the break room. Created by: Sasha)

Me: “Happy Birthday to me.”

Abe: “Ill make u birthday breakfast. I have to go to sleep. There is a visitor spot in front of the leasing office.”

I pulled in to the spot and realized I forgot Brad’s leash. The other two dogs were at home with Mitch, the best dog sitter ever. Brad came with me but I left my vegan cookies and his leash at home, along with my toothbrush and socks.

Brad sticks so close to my feet, he would be fine until I found rope or twine to use in its place.

We trudged into Abe’s bedroom around 4am. Brad crawled into bed with us, sand spilled off my socks onto the bed sheet, left over from the same shoes I wore the weekend before and I fell asleep with the grimy sweat you only find on bar stools, smoke in my hair, beer on my breath and my bra still on.

We woke up at 10am and made love.

I had to ask him to make love to me, since he was still in the mindset that I wanted to cut it off, from the whole Hailey situation.

We had sex in the late morning, took a shower and had more sex.

With the daylight burning off my midnight buzz, a headache started climbing up the steps to my temples and forehead. I could feel the heavy foot falls. Shit, I was going to be hung over for my birthday, which is exactly what I didn’t want.

Abe, “I don’t have any money to take you out for your birthday, but I can make you something.”

Me, “That’s ok. I will buy us a birthday brunch.”

Abe, “What are your plans for today?”

Me, “Birthday Brunch with you, then going down to Alan’s, see the Wild Animal Park and hang out in OB.”

Abe closed his eyes. The crease between his eyes grew deep and his hand squeezed tighter around me.

Abe, “You are going to see Alan.”

Me, “Yeah. Just staying there.”

Abe’s face grew even deeper creases and his hand grew even tighter.

Me, “You don’t have to strangle me, its ok.”

I rubbed the crease between his eyes.

He chuckled. Then he briefly looked up at me from my shoulder. That boy’s blue eyes could burn through skin if he wanted them to. It was a knowing look. He knew I was up to no good.

He got up to get dressed and said, “So what’s the next step with our relationship?”

Me, “We don’t have a relationship.”

Abe rose his voice in mid-frustrated-laugh, “Then what is this!?”

Me, “I wanted to have sex with someone I loved on my birthday.”

He laughed again, in outrage and disbelief.

I said, “Disneyland said I was a Princess and all my wishes could come true on my birthday. Its my birthday and I wish to have sex with you and eat some food.”

He said, “This isn’t Disneyland.”

I said, “But its my birthday!”

I took him to Native Foods Cafe.

The restaurant was in a very small strip mall with a kind of modern Ewok feel to it. Speakers buried in gravel along the pathways echoed the ambient sound of frogs and crickets. There was also a doggie boutique and Valet parking.

We got seats outside in the courtyard, shared by a handful of cafes and restaurants. There were heavy, large wooden picnic tables and tall, wood tables with raised chairs along the basic infrastructure of glass walls and wood frames. This was a little spot that wanted to be hip. They called it the Anti-Mall. Hard to believe an ANTI-mall would have an Urban Outfitters not to mention the American Apparel across the street.

I ordered the Vegan Cheeseburger Pizza which was ridiculous. I was fantasizing about it today. Who ever invented the Cheeseburger Pizza needs to shake my hand.

Also, I ordered Vegan Nachos, I got Abe a Vegan Bacon Burger (even though he suggested I only order for myself) and a chocolate pie for dessert. I don’t mind paying for things on my birthday. I bought Dora a Little Mermaid Scarf she liked at Disneyland. Now I am buying Abe a burger. It feels good to me, I had a little money, and I wanted everyone around me to have something from me.

We are all poor. Who cares?

While waiting in line to order, a small cluster of OC housewives moved towards my spot in line, looked me up and down and smirked, “Are you in line . . . or . . .” Their eyes crawled up my high tops, skinny jeans and Hollywood Chic sweater.

Me, “Yeah.” I mean . . . obviously.

They rolled their eyes over me again, just so I got the point.

Damn, my headache was getting worse.

The food came out to us and I said, “Can I reenact a moment that summarizes why I hate Orange County?”

Abe nodded at first, until I stood up for my performance. Then he said, “Can I ask you to not ridicule people who may be dining around us at the same time?”

I said, “Oh.” And sat back down.

It was hard to avoid the subject of Hailey. I didn’t want to talk about it on my birthday, but Abe was eager to fight it, take it down and move on as quickly as possible.

I couldn’t keep Hailey off that nice oak table.

Abe, “Don’t let it bother you. Its nothing. Just a habit.”

Me, “How can I not let it bother me? You are looking for someone to replace me? Someone you think is better than me?”

Abe, “Is that what you think? That’s not the case, alright. Its an addiction I have with someone who I think is fucking with me on those CL forums.”

Me, “Have you been on since?”

Abe answered immediately, “No.”

Me, “Not even to write me something?”

Abe, “No, why, did you read something you thought I wrote?”

I nodded.

Abe, “That site is evil. It confuses people.”

Me, “Whatever. I don’t want to talk about this on my birthday.”

Abe, “Its not even sexual its . . . a mystery I am trying to solve from a long time ago.”

Me, “Why would you use the word ‘infatuation’ in your ad? How is that not sexual?”

Abe, “I was using someone else’s words from another message that was posted. That’s all it is, recycling each other’s messages and leaving clues. (silence) Maybe I can start taking percocet.”

Me, “You need to see a therapist.”

Abe, “I just need to fill that part of my brain where the obsession is.”

Me, “Why can’t I fill that part of your brain?”

He closed his head and nodded. I am not part of whatever is going on in there. I believe him that it isn’t sexual. He is decoding something in his imagination, but no one can tell me it isn’t romantic when it has the face of his high school crush over it.

Abe asked to buy me coffee after lunch, since that was something he could afford.

He was clearly depressed. His face was hanging over. He kept repeating that he needed to get a job. He needed to do something with his life.

Something I haven’t mentioned before is . . . Abe believes he may share the same spiritual elements of Moses and/or Thoth (an Egyption god). Yes, he may be slightly insane, but I think we all have fantasies that we are apart of something more grandiose than this life alone.

Months ago, when we drove Dora home, I would say something like, “Abe thinks he is Moses.”

Dora would say, “Oh Jesus.”

Abe would say, “Now I have to explain.”

Dora would say, “No, you really don’t.” And Abe would launch into a big explanation about what he knew about Moses, his staff, his personality and how it somehow clicked with him in the present.

Dora and I joked after that car ride home, that my new nickname is Zipporah, Moses’ Ethiopian wife.

Back to my Birthday:

Me, “Now I know why you were talking about Moses’ multiple wives. You are hoping Me, (his best friend before me) Amber and Hailey will all become sister wives. I only hope that I am high enough on the list to be a vessel for your offspring and not just the one you keep around.”

Abe, “I don’t think about anything that far ahead. (beat) I am just a waste of life.”

Me, “We really have to work on bringing up your self esteem.”

Abe, “I don’t have low self esteem. I smoke pot.”

We pulled into a Starbuck’s.

I said, “Did you know there is no Israel in ‘Its a Small World’?”

Abe put out his cigarette and said, “I guess its a Big World, after all.”

We got coffee and then he took me to this hidden garden close to a park. I don’t know where we were, I think somewhere in Newport Beach.

I followed him down a trail filled with Birds of Paradise and tall walls of green bush.

He kept apologizing, “I thought this was a bigger park. Sorry you had to buy yourself lunch on your birthday and now I am taking you to this little park.”

I said, “Its perfect. I wanted to spend my birthday with you.”

Despite the fact that he betrayed me and broke my heart, it really doesn’t make the love go away. I wish it did, but then maybe we all wouldn’t marvel at the wonder of love. Love is supposed to conquer all, and here it was conquering me. I didn’t mind. In fact, I still don’t.

We went back to his apartment, and he kept delaying my leave to Alan’s.

Alan was cooking me dinner.

I kept telling Alan I was going to come out in the day, but I put it off. I was hung over. I had a head ache and I was cherishing these tender moments with Abe. Blowing off Alan was a bonus.

After sunset, I knew I had to get going.

Abe said, “Traffic is bad right now, you should wait.”

Since I was a Princess, I decided to put on “An Affair to Remember” and eat my chocolate pie.

Abe and his roommate were forced to watch it with me, since it was in their living room. They patiently sat there and watched my Cary Grant movie, one with a dinner of oreos and the other with a 2 foot bong.

Abe, “Did people really talk like that?”

Me, “Sure.”

Abe’s Roommate, “What’s so special about her? She seems . . . boring.”

Me, “She’s actually very smart and funny. She challenges him.”

Cary Grant, “There must be something between us, even if it’s only an ocean.”

I watched the whole damn thing, and ate that vegan chocolate pie.

Deborah Kerr, [voice shaking, ready to cry] “If you can paint I can walk- anything can happen, right?”

I had a few wonderful tears on my face, and wiped them off my face as I stretched and smiled.

Me, “THE End!”

Both guys looked up at me and smiled.

Abe’s Roommate, got up and with an exaggerated East Coast accent, exalted, “DARLING!”

Me, “Oh, its 8:30pm already, I gotta go.”

Abe, “No you don’t. Why don’t you just stay here tonight.”

Me, “I can’t do that, he’s cooking dinner.”

Abe, “Oh, he’s cooking dinner . . . well.  Let me make you some tea for the road.”

He made some tea with lemon, and I sat and watched him. I enjoyed making him jealous.

He walked me to my car, and before handing me a large jar of warm, honey colored tea, he said, “I really hope you get to go to the Wild Animal Park.”

We smiled at each other as he closed my car door for me.

I drove to Alan’s.

To be continued . . .

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