Greetings from almost West Hollywood. Bonjour from the foothills of the rich and famous. Hello from what a good friend coined as, “almost Laurel Canyon”. I can see a CVS Drugstore and Wokcano Asian Restaurant & Bar from my bedroom window, which is also my living room window, which is also my writing room window, because I live in an over-priced one-room box in close proximity to the Chateau Marmont.
The sun is setting on another perfectly not-too-warm Los Angeles day. The air feels and smells pink. The street lights haven’t come on yet but the traffic has died down…
After you’re with a straight man for a very long time, the straight male friends you cultivated in your single days largely fall by the wayside and your circle of muscles with trucks and few familial obligations narrows to mostly then men your partner, boyfriend, or husband knows. When that man stops loving you, your access to the rest is immediately cutoff.
So, what does your world look like when the men stop? What happens when there are no more of them, they don’t help anymore, because suddenly none of them love you?
I drove from West Hollywood to Redondo…
Rushing, running, quickly, get right to the edge, then
I’ve been dreaming with my legs and waking up at… three o’clock?
Can’t sprint my way through seven
Just this morning when I gave up it was merely 5:11
I am begging of you, Heart, please settle down and let me sleep?
I’ve been fighting off your monsters now for 37 weeks
Please let me sink into my bed
Please let me close my eyes in stillness
Let me think of warmer bodies
Let me relieve nervous stiffness that comes over me like gusts of wind
A dandy, thrift-store princess and an accidental mistress may
Take hours to get ready but can make their list in minutes:
Eight glasses of gladness, a brunch buffet of sadness, red velvet steak, T-bone cake and macarons for madness.
She fiddles with the boys as they diddle all her toys she
Licks her lips and fingertips at meals that she enjoys.
She gifts bouquets of lies with her luring, earnest eyes and takes joy in failing miserably at everything she tries.
In a borrowed party dress at a millionaire’s address she’s
The center of attention and a damsel in distress.
Despite the buckets of rain pouring down this morning, the atypical Los Angeles winter chill we’ve suffered has broken and finally, it isn’t cold anymore. A bird in the distance chirps twice. Another, perhaps a few yards away, lets out a high-pitched vibrato. One calls out, then the other, and their cyclical exchange persists as the sun continues to rise. How am I hearing birds this early, through this heavy rain? I wonder if these two are friends, strangers, or lovers. …
The whole third grade was called to assemble in the chapel of my medium-sized private Christian school. We squirmed in our seats in nervous anticipation as a mom-aged woman with shoulder-length blonde hair and glasses entered the stage carrying a most unusual and to me, exotic instrument. She sat down in a chair and began to play the most beautiful sounds I’d ever heard. The tones were low and creamy and sang out like a human voice. She looked so elegant to me, confident, and a little bit magical.
Mrs. Walsh, an elementary school teacher and former professional orchestral musician…
Are you cold at night out in your lonely hinterland? Get yourself a strong and captivating winter man. A winter man will wrap you up in arms made out of light, and kiss all of your spaces ’til he gets them each just right. He’ll ask for you to nuzzle up and rest upon his chest. He’ll slip his hand between your legs whenever you request. He gets such pleasure from your reaching utmost satisfaction while reciprocating exchanges of mutual attraction. He’s not one to say goodnight he does not leave you there to sleep, he knows his job —…
Here’s my monumental failure at an ordinary life: I laid down all my chips and bet I’d be somebody’s wife.
At my age that’s what you do I guess you have to go all in; just wish someone would have warned me that I wasn’t right for him.
Though some good has come out of this, sure, I’m healthier, I’m me, but it all feels close to buckling under my fragility.
There’s a lot of me that’s saying staying positive is key, cling to optimism, shake this off, get back to loving “me”.
I’ve let go of my dual nature…
Welcome back my friends please take a seat, grab a cup.
Things are changing fast around here and I need to open up.
Found a love, I had some times, we got a new place by the sea.
Don’t know where our wires crossed but he fell out of love with me.
We tried everything to fix it or at least that’s what he says.
We sleep in separate rooms now — only one of us depressed.
I own that part about this; it’s rewarding to’ve been true —
to the feelings that I had — I didn’t sway, I…
Some call them Santa Anas. Others say it’s earthquake weather. On these unusually warm Los Angeles nights when the wind is stronger and more purposeful than usual, you sense danger approaching. Peril blows in from the restless desert in the form of newness, disruption, and uncertainty. Trouble is on the way and it’s coming in many forms. The neighbor’s friendly dog growling and snapping at you. Your lover’s white lie that you don’t catch until you’ve hung up the phone. The smell of the woman upstairs baking cookies. “In this heat?” You shake your head. Nothing makes sense.
Sometimes writer. Find me in the smoking section or anywhere champagne is served. Instagram/Tumblr/Twitter @stickyisaslut