. Sofia Coppola is the fucking bomb. If I were Sofia Coppola, I’d be so cool and bi-coastal, and I’d also own homes in Europe and be like, intercontinental. I’d be so rich and could afford to go out to Mr. Chow and The Ivy every night, only why would I go out when I would have a freaking beautiful restaurant quality kitchen in my house and I would be a fantastic cook myself – the kind of cook who creates gourmet meals by tossing together odds and ends from the fridge. Only my fridge would be a stainless steel programmable Sub-Zero Pro 48 that keeps different shit on certain shelves cooler than other shit on other shelves. And my assistant would read the manual and she would program in all the right temperatures because I would have rescued her from working at Geek Squad and pay her a shitload of money to do stuff for me, like program my electronic devices and do my taxes. Not like my sister Carol who blew me off when she went to Cal Poly SLO in the fall and hasn’t returned my emails from like a month ago and who always treated me like a stupid bastard stepchild anyway. And the food I would stock in my cool fridge would be Ahi tuna marinated in olive oil imported from my own grove in Tuscany. I would throw the Ahi together with some endive grown in my terraced garden, plus fabulous heirloom tomatoes from my hothouse out back. I’d make my own bread too – I would knead the dough myself at 6:45AM after an hour long yoga practice with a real yogi to whom I would pay a ridiculous amount of money just to show up at my house every morning to run me through vinyasa flow.
Yeah.
Entries from February 2009
February 28, 2009
Sofia Coppola is My Favorite (Excerpt)
February 25, 2009
Black Sheep Sings (Excerpt)
My trip to the bathroom was a ginger, creaky shuffle. I made it halfway across the room before my uterus clenched and I felt a pop, and a hot torrent of blood gushed out of me, splatting on the floor like a wet mop. All I could do for a few moments was stare at it, Lamaze-ing.
He- he-, hooo. He- he-, hooooo.
February 24, 2009
Changing Water
When the doe emerged from the fortressed walls of emerald corn stalks and slipped onto the field road smattered with dew I didn’t hear her. Didn’t see silent lightning spider the night in the inimitable distance of her eyes of oblique glass, onyx, but felt her gaze turn inward and haunt, like the slow face [...]
February 22, 2009
A metaphor for my participation in global warming
I clubbed a baby seal
his flesh soft, compliant
and the blood congealed
at the end of my baton.
