Birth.

Holy flaming fuck. Is it that time of year again?

Bloody bugger September. the lightening lashed month of my becoming. .My glitter dipped and sequin studded sensibilities put me in the poky fund wise yet again. Too many shoes and pedicures mean empty coffers and being stuck here rather than on the coast eating mango’s with my phone switched off..

I ran for all of “Back in black” and “Powerage” today. Fat lumbering muy grande mija that I am. A nice steady sweat and well strapped knees give me a pinch of  joy every time. I outlasted the pack of half-sleeved (yawn) rugby playing date rapists who tried to keep up with me by five laps. How inquiring minds want to know? Why,by fantasizing about being on tour with Saint Cecilia  ,resplendent on stage in a fetching pair of hot-pants,my stack-heeled shit-kicker boots and a skintight Allman brothers tee-shirt all delivered wrapped in a devil may care grin. My silver fox-tail a furry metronome beating time against my sweaty thigh and/or Sir Henry of Rollins taking me out for a vegan dinner in Silverlake to discuss publishing my new book.

Aka-Errol Flynn is teaching me how to drive stick shift.3 pedals is 3 pedals too fucking many.I think that he must have a death wish and is also one of the kindest people I know.He has slept with 580 women and the stories are quite amazing.Many redheads litter his sordid history . I am fascinated. He makes great toast and me laugh. I will persist with this driving caper as when I make some paper I want to buy a copy of The General Lee.You can take the girl out of the trailer….

Look,whatever gets one foot in front of the fucking other alright?

And here comes the 18th again (“Here comes my Chinese rug”) Dee-Dee long gone.I used to sit by his grave for hours as the sun melted cancer coated over Santa Monica boulevard for another day. I still get some kind of awful lonesome for the suspended reality that is Hollywood. The endless almost  and maybe forever sauntering hand in hand down Sunset, high on smog and wet dreams. That certain light that I have written about endlessly and never managed to capture,that continues to haunt me still. I saw a derivative of it bouncing off the rail tracks as I pounded my way across the bridge on my way home today,Bon bellowing in my ears,the vermilion sky taking what little breath I had clean away.

And I think of Denny’s and the white Jeep that ended up getting impounded somewhere in New Mexico (“As apposed to Old Mexico?” “Shut up …”) Of Calgon Hawaiian Ginger scenting my too thin by far skin and naively epic hopeless hopes .Of giving myself  over and over again to the man that I loved madly and beyond all reason ,the horror slowly dawning on me that I would never be enough and would in time become nothing more than a set of songs for him to sing.

I hate my fucking birthday. I was going to concrete  over it but when I realized the effort involved I decided to do my aching Miss Haversham thing, hole up in my boudoir listening to Neil Young , Gram and Emmy Lou and leave only for select events. Such as my big brother squiring me to see Earth play tomorrow night at the Hi-fi bar. Dylan Carson delivers the brown note all the way from Portland.

I can dig it.

Then Friday will be spent at the mercy of my iron handed Korean hairdresser getting my brunette mane did. Lee Joo,who will manage to make me feel like a million bucks after a mere six torturous ass numbing hours in the chair. It is at times like this that I think that I may be somewhat spiritually remiss due to vanity taking up almost all of my pie chart so to speak. It passes quickly.Fuck it! I still pray to the King in all of his white jump-suited glory daily.

I know which side my Quaalude is buttered on thank you very much.

Another 365 days closer to the end? May as well look cute I say. Life will get you.Bet on it baby.It will fuck you five ways to Friday so why not suck it dry daily? The grim reaper moves rapidamente hombre. Give it all you have got while you have still got it to give.

Four new tattoos have helped.

Best that I leave my bed and train.The days flee.My fat does not.

And you say that you miss me?

Hell,its a forever thing….