bananas

my blistered feet thank you for your long walk and good conversation --

always, endlessly, without fail.

through all of my triumphs and tradgedies, i can count on you, best friend.

sometimes i hesitate talking to you, because you tell me what i need to hear

and not what i want to hear.

thank you for reminding me that i'm a beautiful, ambitious and SANE person.

today i really needed that.

pink thank you bag

Today I watched an old Chinese lady carelessly wander into the middle of the street.
In some strange way, I envied her.
She didn't look both ways.
She just knew no one was going to run her over.
Sometimes I think I watch every step
all to carefully
and don't take enough risks.
don't worry; I'm not going to dart into oncoming traffic, but maybe
the old Chinese lady was trying to tell me something.

i'll be loving you forever

jordan knight & I @ K101 prom, 2007

jordan knight concernt @ the Independent in SF 2004?

so, i'm a bit saddened that NKOTB gave a less than stellar performance last friday on the today show. however, i'm still going to tattoo i love new kids 4 eva on my forearm.



ever since about 1988, i've been in love with the 5 boys from beantown. i saw them in concert at the shoreline. i had all the videos, tapes and memorabilia. i'd make my mom record oprah or whatever show they were on during the day. and now, 20 years later, i sat in front of the television watching their first performance in over a decade and was so close to tears. russell was trying his hardest not to laugh at me, but i must admit, i looked like a crazy loon singing the words to "tonight" and then calling Lana to sing to her our revised version (lana, lana, lana tonight)



i love you joey, jordan, jon, donnie and danny!

from smachy

Ten years ago, my best friend died. She was taken away from me suddenly, just as we were both figuring out who we were. i was seventeen and getting ready for my prom. She had already left high school and was trying to get shit straight. I couldn't blame her. I envied her. Always, all the time. She was beautiful, sweet and honest. She made me understand things about myself and about the world that most 17 year olds couldn't grasp. Maybe that was just all the pot we smoked. I don't know for sure.

For years after her death, I watched as the media tried to villainize her. I watched her family mourn and try to pick up the pieces. I watched her friends stand up at Police Commission meeting after meeting, refusing to let her death be swept under SFPD’s filthy rug.

I was angry for a long time – angry that my friend was taken away from me in the way that she was. Last January, charges against the officers involved in her death were dropped. After a nine year uphill battle, everything was over. I decided then that for years I had focused only on her death and not on the wonderful person she was and the great friendship we had.

There is not one person in this entire world who had influenced me the way that she has. I will forever be grateful to her for all that she gave me and continues to give me.

I love you she-she and I miss you terribly.

the palace

the palace of fine arts...
so weird to call it by its full name
i know it simply as "the palace,"
the place where i would stumble around
with a red cup in hand
more than 10 years ago
avoiding my dad
who might just pass by
on a friday night skate.
last night i went to the palace
with my dad
who was honored
with the Governors’ Service Medallion
for outstanding service
to the
National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences.
He was also nominated for an Emmy for his work on “The War: Bay Area Stories.”
The event itself was pretty boring and I spent most of
the ceremony sending silly texts to Russell.
However, it was cool to get dressed up and have dinner inside the Exploratorium!

bummerific

Three bums tried to take advantage of my kindness and steal my wallet.

I lost my keys or so I thought.

The scraggly leader of the pack had been my knight in shining armor.

He was sitting outside of the bar -- a bar that I've been to a million times, but just can't remember the name. It’s on the corner of This street and that Street and has a red and black marble entrance.

Whatever. That's neither here nor there.

The dude in the green jacket who smelled like oil politely handed me my keys.
My hands were full and I knew they were all just trying to make a buck, so I let him help me open the door.

I put my bag on the seat and the bearded bum with the purple and black windbreaker and a fanny pack (I think he escaped from the 80s) opened the passenger door and asked if I was OK. Now I was freaked out because I had a bum at each front door and didn't know where the third dude was. The retro bum was asking if I could help them all out, yada yada.
Of course I would. Dude found my keys, right?

I was prepared to give them a dollar each (I thought I was being generous) and third wheel bum got all indignant. I owe them this, that and the other for finding my keys and what have you. Retro bum was eyeing my black wallet. I gave him the best “don't you dare" look that I could. And he didn't. But I ended up handing bum #1 three tens and thanked him for his help.

Just a dream.