movies, maaaan~

that tells you how spent I was. I fell asleep after the golden guns.

on a f ureaking Nicholas Cage movie.

Unheard of .

Hard sleep .


I had to go finish it bright eyed and bushy tailed for breakfast.

Because Nick FUCKING CAGE, Maaan!

Hmmm…favorite part, part that made me go “thaat fucking Nick fn cage!” ?

After his kid called him trying sad & his eyes did the THING that makes everybody feel that knife going in between the shoulder blades With him lol. It was just like “Got damn! Frickin-” …and you just hafta shake it off and keep cooking.

…Debating Once upon a time in Hollywood. Never watched it. When I heard about the White boy retelling of whupping Bruce Lee’s ass it was just like

… here we go again, Quentin’s publicly jerking off on white boy fantasies and jizzing all over the audience again ,with his stereotypical second class emasculated Asian male hoohahs , probably propped up by a plethora of “no reason to rejoice as niggardly as he does” overuse of his favorite word he likes to use the hard R with, no doubt.

It is what it is, but why watch if I know he’s not going to get the pass now since it all sings out like nothing but a lazy crutch these days, the racist tourettes of emboldened yet empty old age ? And if it dampens the actual moviemaking genius he does have… like, Can he even Make a movie not relying on that shit to punctuate plot points post Kill Bill?

So I haven’t given it 3 hrs.

But all that and dirty feet aside, I have heard itsa great flick all the same.

It’s not like I haven’t been here all the sundays I’ve. .. Been here…you know what I mean lol.

But it actually feels like “I’m about to have a Sundaze on the couch, watching movies with truffle popcorn ” day.

It’s partly the shock and awe of being post-Ojai AND Topanga after holding out for them for so long and partly this gorgeously human-faced lil fuzzy boy I’m hanging out with for a bit.

He’s like a scottie & dachshund mixed, and you can see the recent human incarnation in his 2yr old eyes. He looks like a sweet lil baby wolfman Jack in person, contemplating the universe. A lil baby jesus wolfman.

The spirit of the city has always loved on me whenever I’m around in writerhead but this one’s such a surprising affair. This sojourn is in a part of Venice I was scared of in 2017 & 2018 that said vibrational master of ceremonies was offering me.

A nomad company I used to basecamp with up and down the coast while in between art residencies in mode opened a compound over here, alongside my regular Pacific/ Canals spot & Abbot Kinney writerhead runaway camp hole-ups.

I clearly listened too faithfully to my vortex dwellers overlooking Muscle Beach. The same crew who said there was nothing below the Venice pier , that it only got worse south of it said similar stuff about East Venice.

It did pan out as such visually along the mains at the time & that had been enough. And I give myself grace at how heeding that countered my adventurous, exploring edge of the world inclinations because I know what I had been relationally coming out of made me overly sensitive to what their words painted.

I’m glad though. It alloted the surprise of the beach cities( and now here) to later times for me. Plus, it kept me in rambling man mode beyond the city limits of LA.

Now I know a block off the mains it’s just peaceable and beautiful over here. Especially if you like an eclectic mix of architectural flourishes and sanctuary level gardens and well kept landscaping.

& it’s Clean. Like capital C clean. People give a fuck on most blocks. Every house. With whatever their territory is. I have always been sensitive to that , vibrationally.

I didn’t know Venice could BE non-shabby chic in such beautiful, broad strokes. This sector said no thanks to the grit, and it’s a community, or at least block on block call.

I always feel good…here in Venice.

But today I have …a feeling of being comfortable and cozy here. My sensory stuff is fully at ease.

It actually feels like a Sunday, no daze required.

Like…swaddled in love.

It may not even be the place.

It may just be the space. The headspace.

… whatever it is~ let’s lazily find some dog on yer legs on tha couch, cat at the hip movies to casually enjoy.