Well, friends, I'm back. Back up north in Sacramento, where the breeze is slight but sometimes still and the sun is hot and the streets are tree-lined and shady. The shops and cafes and freeways are simple and accessible. San Diego was beautiful. San Diego has the ocean, the surfers, the cool air, the hills and valleys and bomb mexican food. But I'm glad to be home, although that too will be changing soon.

In two weeks I'm moving out, it's looking like more changes are on the horizon. So I go back to work and see my friends and exist in Sacramento but it feels like my heart is elsewhere. German music is on the radio, I've just finished a spliff, and it seems that my heart is in Europe. My heart is in Berlin. I don't know how it makes me feel that when I look at Facebook and see photos and updates from friends back there. I suppose it's a bittersweetness; I'm happy for them but wish I could join in the fun, especially when my friend Christian posts his photos from the Kit Kat Club in Friedrichshain, Berlin. That, friends, was a place like no other.

For those of you who aren't familiar with the Kit Kat Club, I'll say it in two words: Hedonistic Debauchery. Wait. Three words. Hedonistic Sexual Debauchery. That's better.

Kit Kat is located in Friedrichshain, Berlin, on the corner of

I might have to throw up a warning for our younger views, but I think it's appropriate to share some of my Kit Kat Club photos with you.

Road Trip 09

I'm going to San Diego tomorrow. Leaving right after work, driving down with Ashley and Katie in Ashley's black or so dark blue it looks black under moonlight early 2000 volvo. Tough as nails. Like a tank.

We're driving down straight after work, we're getting the fuck outta dodge. This is my summer trip, folks. This is it. Stuck in the system of the United States' rapidly drowning economy, I can't quite take trips with the frequency I would like. But I'm leaving for 5 days and 4 nights - that's solid! We'll be staying with Ashley's friend Benny. I'm determined to go rollerskating next to the ocean, to find some tacky Chinese lanterns to decorate my new backyard, to swim in warm, Southern California waters.

I'm getting out and the gettin's gonna be good.

Rock Stars have way more fun than normal people

It's 3:04 in the morning and I've just returned from a rock-star themed party at the Flame Club -a somewhat scummy bar located across the street from the Memorial Auditorium in downtown Sacramento. The place was closed for the night, only friends were allowed in. Drink tickets were given at the door, as well as poker chips for several card tables that were set up, and there was food galore! I myself gorged mostly on the chocolate-dipped strawberries, but satisfied my craving for something savory with the shrimp cocktail. Mmmm..... chocolate strawberries and shrimp cocktail. Almost makes ya want to throw up a bit in your mouth, right? Well it was tasty. And I was drunk. Perhaps that's why the combo was so delicious!The dj was rocking it and I danced until the vintage shoes on my feet could move no more.

A couple friends came over earlier; we drank red wine and played dress up. Ashley went as Joan Jett, Lorea'l as Gwen Stefani (singing all the throughout the night, "the shit is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S), and me, you ask? What alter ego did I don for the night? None other than Madonna. Somehow, a black corset on top of a red fishnet long sleeved shirt, home-made lacy black pettifore-slash-tu-tu thing as a skirt, and purple, yellow, pink and blue heels from the 80s worked well. A couple guests at the party even knew who I was. Sweet.


After we took this photo, Ashley and I realized just how tall I really am compared to her. She looks a little pip-squeak compared to my giganticness! You know, though, if I had actually started preparing for the party before the day of, if I had had a bit more time to scour the thrift stores for a better costume, I woulda gone as Prince. No doubt about it. Purple velvety clothing, white ruffles, jerry curl in my white girl hair - err, ok, maybe not the jerry curls. But velvet and ruffles, for sure. Aww, cute little androgynous Prince. I just want to pinch his cute little butt cheeks!


Anyway, I get back home and start playing around in Google. Unfortunately, up until this time, my hours on the internet have not been spent wisely. Admittedly, my navigation rarely spawns beyond Facebook, Google, Craigslist, and the New York Times. Where, or where, are the bad ass websites? Where can I actually go to feel good about wasting time inside on the internet? Honestly, I try to keep my relationship with my computer short and sweet - I know there's a whole world out there, a world full of rivers and foreign countries and beautiful people - so I try to keep it brief. In and out.

However...

I've decided I'm going to make a living on the internet. Perhaps I've been inspired by a new friend, or perhaps it's been something creeping closer and closer into view. Ever since I returned from Berlin, the world of internet sales (vis a vis my father's Ebay business - brokering used radio station equipment) has been all up in my grill. It's time to become open to the possibilities of selling over the internet.

I'll embrace it. I'll welcome Ebay, I'll welcome Pay Pal. Internet commerce, welcome to my house! It's very, very good to have you. I want to build a website (hopefully using the sweet web design skills of my ex of four years, Jonathan, little boy wonder who now works for Apple), and sell stuff through it. I'd like to write articles about the products, do reviews, and have freelancers contribute as well. I'll pick products that I like, that I trust, that I recommend, and make them available to the world. All in one place. All awesome. All on a website that I will have created. Therefore, all revenue from the sales of the products I choose, as well as any ads placed on the website, will go to me... Muah ha ha haaaahhh!!

Ahem. I want to learn more. I heard today that DUI attorney ads, placed on the right websites, will earn the owner of that website up to $100 bucks. A hundred dollars! Can you believe it?? My good friend Megan has a younger brother, Byron. He's a reggae dj in Sacramento, and, although I love the kid to death, he's dealing with his second DUI. How could you be so stupid?? First of all, is fucking costly. Second of all, you could kill someone. Or yourself. Now how would that feel?

But, of course, as it's my style, I digress. I've decided to manifest making money on the internet. No more working for the man. No more working weekends. No more wasting hours and hours and days of my life doing something I could honestly care less about, all the while KNOWING that I could be doing so much more for myself and not working so hard. That's one of the problems with America. We accept that hard work is the only way to go. I know, I know. It's the "American Dream." It's the search for wealth, for power, for status. It's the willingness to step on your peers to get ahead; use other human beings for personal gains and then throw them away. All for what? A big house on the hill? A white picket fence? A big screen tv in the living room and a maid on the weekends and a family that doesn't know how to communicate with each other?

No thanks.

I'm not selling out, I'm just thinking smarter. I've always known there were other ways to find freedom.

Dear Adsense,

Please work for me! I want my weekends back and I want to travel the world and work from anywhere and someday soon return to Berlin so I can feel that energy again, like being re-born. Click away, folks, click away.

cycling trivialities

Well, I'm officially single again. To be exact, it's been a good few weeks now, since things ended, but in all honesty, it wasn't the cleanest of breakups. It wasn't the cleanest of relationships, either, but that's sometimes how the cards are played. The cord has been cut but the thing that was used to cut it didn't do such a good job. Think of a butter knife through rope - not so tidy; not so easy. But cut nonetheless, with, admittedly, still the tiniest of threads left. Each day that passes prompts the thread to fray. It may soon tear.

It was a short run, only two months, but it took a toll on me. I feel like I can breathe again, like not only my head but my torso is above water as well. I'm writing more, going out less, really doing things I want to do. Because after all - and not to sound narcissistic - but I am the most important person in my life, right? And you are the most important person in yours. Remember that, givers of the world. You can place as many breadcrumbs as you like in your curled up fist. Stretch it out, extend it, open your hand. But don't give it all away. Don't forget, you need to eat too.

Life is good. It's summer in Sacramento, and yet the weather remains moderate. I'm riding my bike more (still need to get a proper headlight though for night riding), spending more time with my family, and just plain doin' shit. I'm starting to get involved in improv and finding that I'm not only funny around friends but in front of an audience (albeit small) as well. When I was in Berlin, I was hounded monthly by a friend to come to his improv performances - not to watch but to participate in. He was part of a troupe, English speakers of course, who would get together and have shows in town. I never ended up going. I wanted to go, really did mean to go before I left, I swear! But for one reason or another I just never made it.

So why not now?

There's tons of things on my list, tons of things I want to do. In addition to improv, I want to try acting! I also want to get a motorcycle license. And, maybe most importantly, I need to actually sit down and start writing that god damn book. My 28th year. My year away. My year in Europe. If not just to get it down for myself, then to get it down for good friends who keep reminding me to do it.

Oh yeah, and I'm going to sign up for a German class in the fall. In preparation of going back to Berlin in the spring.

Some people seem to be living inside of a personal purgatory.

three years

The New York times says
we'll all be dead
in three years;
and the guns that could have procured power,
land, and excess
won't mean shit.

Ancient calendars aren't divided by lines
boxed up into little squares
stacked on top of each other
and on the sides
so that each day suffocates just a little more than the last.

Ancient calendars stood up and yawned
arms outstretched,
extending beyond themselves,
unfolding
deep breathing
like old wise men in the morning

sweat doesn't drip down my back
like it used to.
The seas rise and the ice melts and the
hole
gets
bigger

hyperbaric chambers are over-priced and
overrated
anyway.

love showcase showdown

So, unless you're a first time customer, you may have noticed I've updated my blog. I also posted the letter below. I need some changes, I need to get back to being me, I need to gather the pieces of myself that I chipped or shaved or cut off and gave away; I need to gather them back one by one or perhaps two by one and put them in my pockets, gently, where they can nap and huddle in the comfort and warmth and goodness that is me, alone.

For the past month I've felt nauseas, it's been real, it's consumed me. I have been stressed and although I almost hate to admit it here (is it the being honest or the admitting weakness that is difficult for me?) but it's been a bit rough. A close co-worker kept telling me I wasn't myself. She was right. I'm glad to have co- workers like this.

So he's up in Mendacino for two ( or was it three?) weeks to clear underbrush with a chainsaw or fight fires with hoses or some heroic showing, and already I'll have to break his heart and tell him I can't talk to him ever again, or at least we just can't be friends right now. And the bummer part about it is I know it will break his heart; he won't realize this is not the end of the world and there will be others and perhaps both of us have some work to do before entering into the next love showcase showdown.

And of course, in order to sleep, to not be stressed, I didn't call him like he asked; I didn't even text him. I just turned my phone off. And that's how it's going to have to be. Until I can tell him, tomorrow, when it's day time, when I'm not tired and he's not drunk, that I just need a break. Because I do. Need a break.

I also need someone, somewhere, eventually, who will treat me right.

goodbye

Richard,

I am going to say it here and I am going to say it loud and clear, I'm going to say it so that you understand, it's over. It didn't work. You sucked all my energy out and now I'm barely hanging on, so for my sake, please know that I can't talk to you, for I don't know how long. I'm so sorry to hurt you.

Thank you for making me laugh. Thank you for everything.