only love is all maroon

i am horribly limited

"i can never read all the books i want; i can never be all the people i want and live all the lives i want. i can never train myself in all the skills i want. and why do i want? i want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. i am horribly limited."

-sylvia plath

some days

i want to quit hollywood and all those ideas and run away.

jamie criss & the boys

sometime soon.

we are utterly thankful

as we drove in our car late saturday, circling around pasadena looking for trader joe's, mackenzie told us to ask the universe for safety and for the things we wanted. we said, "universe, please keep us safe and please give us hummus and please give us vegetables and bread and please pretty please, if it's possible, we'd like something sugary too."

we stood in dumpsters and gathered the wonderfully delicious and perfectly edible foods that trader joe's throws away every night. tightly wound in bags we received armfuls of fish, bread, salad, apples, and best of all, eight triple chocolate mini bunt cakes. yes.

on sunday i was reveling in our accomplishment. having only $0.53 in the bank and i realized, i went dumpster diving out of necessity last night. if we didn't have this food, i would have nothing to eat.

then i wailed to my roommates about unemployment and creative dissatisfaction. mackenzie said, "you need to ask the universe for those things." so i did. i talked to god, or the universe and asked for these things. i asked shawn to ask for them too.

and then i booked three days of shooting in one week. and additionally, the location for filming is nearby, i don't have to trek to a distant beach or a confusing north hollywood location. i continued to eat our free groceries every day. and my father decided to pay for a much needed subscription to backstage west, a tool for actors to receive audition notices. we're having a poetry reading at my house on saturday night and i couldn't be more thrilled. a night dedicated to nothing but the written word. and the invitation out to anyone. not just previously marked and prideful poets among our circle. all voices.

so i'll continue again. universe. mother nature. god. there is debt. and hopes of directing a play. and there is the writer's block, how desperately i've been waiting for something brilliant to come upon me. i'm applying for grad school and applying for artist residencies. i'm trying to pay off lots of debt. to my mother. to citibank and sallie mae. i want to go to europe. i want to help my friends.

oh, how the horizon starts to look clearer.

ah, weekend

..goodfellas
..chocolate bundt cake
..mexican rice
..sailor t-shirt
..to do list
..dumpster diving
..sharing
..group pilates
..episcopalian
..dirty fingernails
..midnight snack
..waiting

1

who are you,little i

(five or six years old)
peering from some high

window;at the gold



of november sunset
(and feeling:that if day
has to become night

this is a beautiful way)

-e.e.cummings