behind the music

it was one of those blurry nights between christmas and new years, in an apartment complex on cherokee. his walls were painted red, no furniture, just a desk and a guitar. he poured whiskey into brightly colored glasses. we sat on the hardwood floor. he tore my dress by accident. like a college girl i pretended not to notice. we almost did this one year ealier in a jacuzzi with my best friend at his manager's house. what is it with these LA DJs and their managers? get fucked like rockstars under moonlight in the hills. on the roof. details please. well, i let him write his name. dyed my hair so i wasn't his type. said hi and not much else at moscow. i went back to school, back east, hit up new york city, killed some time. he showed up in italian vogue as paris hilton's backing band. the next time i saw him he already had a new gig.

comorbidity

suicide fantasy, roach motel. how you gonna get to heaven if you always look like hell? cyanide ice cream, cotton candy nose. whisper quickly before i have to go.

you took me to your cardboard house, mattress on the floor, yesterday's pizza still in the box, half eaten. the sun shone past the tiny kitchen, almost reached your pillow. i sunk too quickly into that beat-up mattress. you automatically reached for a cigarette. we fucked quickly, like you could sense my repulsion through my opaque facade. i thought i hid it well.

a dragon clawed its way across her tiny shoulder, breathing fire for the both of them. i don't know why i took so many pills, do you? i didn't think i would get so sick. their shiny coat deceived me. pangs of guilt shot through my body as i huddled over the toilet. you knew better and i learned and you didn't care when i caught you making love in the living room. mine makes better music i half-sneered, afraid the truth would sink in a little deeper. you saw through my lies but never stopped casting suspicious looks my way. i pressed my back against that cold bedroom door and smoked away my soul.

i think i got played. i looked into your eyes a second too long and went blind again. another lover who's not a friend. maybe i don't want my heart to mend. i'll never outrun the pesticide spray but without you by my side i just might be okay.

need help sleeping?

the night we met again you sat on a blood-stained patio spitting fiery half sentence sobs until you couldn't breathe. the marina moon lit the gleaming sea. the next day jellyfish filled the murky water, swimming suspended next to old soda cups and submerged plastic bags. you ran free to the sunlight and stuck your dirty toes in the sand, let the white light bleach away your scars. i wandered up and down the alphabetically-named streets with names like driftwood and spinnaker and topsail. i found you curled up on a wrinkled towel, blond hair splayed in all directions. i dropped my keys, touched your motionless shoulder, waited for you to wake up.

refracted light

and the noise and the boys and the hands and the lives that we live when we lie and can’t pass the time alone. you’re made of sparkly star dust, your wings keep time as they beat against mine. you’re a laugh and a smile that I don’t get to see. you hide from everyone, lately, even me. I could try again but i choose to come here instead where the fairies wear boots, stomp around in the night. They don’t have that holy california light. My city makes me sad, its all I ever had. The concrete breaks the silence. Where’s your voice when I need it most? Dulled into the speakers of my phone. Another goodbye, another plane trip. I’m trying to keep my grip on reality, trying to plant my foot, choose the path today. Open bar feeds sick little chicks. Sandy, young things, suck your dick. Don’t be afraid, we’ve all been there except now I’ve started to really care for you, for me, for anything that could be.

not losing myself in anyone: just the gentle curve of the n train as it lumbers into the sleeping city. above ground, so that i see the glint of the subway's silver roof in the 4 am moonlight; in the empty hollow voice of a nameless singer who recalls lonely streets and decrepit city dives; a bottle filled with coke and jack, downed quickly while looking for a taxi in astoria; the brilliant pain of a strobe light and high heels, when nothing matters but the movements of my body across from a boy.

evolve evolve with the past, with the present. move forward into the future while screaming out into the abyss below. hold tightly to the ghost if you must. I will not sink back into the cushy past of whispered kisses and dreams we shared. a robotic army marches over the hill at dawn stomping feet keep time with the second hand of the tower clock. under their wing of presupposed confidence they've got me with dreams marred by the realization that even those who want to know me best still don't get inside. a whispered kiss, a shaking hand, the heavy fragrance of thai jasmine just after sunset--I just want to wake up in the same place for months at a time. with my toothbrush and my clock. I just want to hear the radio boys and know where I am, aware of my location without looking out the window, without searching for a mental template to match the view outside.

I told her I felt like I just woke up as the elevator pulled us through the late afternoon heat. she said you need prozac. I kind of agreed even though we just met.

48 hours in LA

I threw myself into the city with extra force knowing it would be our last time out like this for awhile. the industrial boiler room sucked us in and spun us around until we couldn't tell which way was up. I called TF knowing I had already moved on in my heart, making plans. we parked the car on a gritty street corner and slipped downstairs dressed like dandies and spice girls with hippie curls and fedoras.

the next day i visited rehab. the newbies crowed with tales of needles and liquor store bathrooms, shooting up on pch. we lost ourselves in chakra balancing.

our last night we took shots of tequila and downed bellinis in our hotel lobby bar. for years of los angeles and hopefully many more to come. friends trickled down from the roof to say goodbye to Claudia. A said los angeles was already crumbling without her. we drove down to alameda and ducked into his loft. I slipped out of my patent leather heels and buried my toes in the fuzzy white rug. at 3 we took off for another club, stopping for gas along the way. Like we would do it again next week except we wouldn’t.

the parking attendant hobbled across the asphalt with the help of a cane to give me sixteen dollars change and we ducked into an alley, climbed under a torn canvas curtain to find a dingy loft space with a full bar and a makeshift seating area decorated by lawn chairs. drinks were free. Marie thought she was gonna puke but ended up making out on a couch for two hours. Claudia snapped photos in the soft light and danced in a halo of glittery beats. I would miss her the most, but i was already used to that. she would miss this. her LA. when we finally left the alley it was light. holy shit Marie said. I sobered up quickly in the grey downtown dawn and we took the freeways back to hollywood and then the boulevard back to santa monica, passing smashed foilage and dirty wind until we hit the beach.

its a lot farther than you think from the palladium to the burgundy room

girl power give me flowers
throw them to the crowd
shred your guitar, don’t go too far
all we have is now

I fell asleep at the punk rock show
woke up on the dirty floor
waited by the backstage door
didn't know how to say no

fingers on my hip bones
he's screamin to a microphone
camera flash to feel alone
in the middle of the night

cheap weed and spanish streets
passed out on expensive sheets
crushing hearts beneath our heels
don't say u don't know how it feels

because once is never enough

I smoothed over my miniskirt, adjusted my tube top, buried my gum in a tissue, and stared straight ahead. when the elevator opened he loped out. I clicked the unlock button and he careened into the passenger seat of my tiny car, leaned in to give me a hug. I changed gears as joy division blared out of the radio.

we flipped around in a swift, calculated u and roared onto the 10, windows down, hot air mixing with the air conditioned car interior. we got off at fairfax and worked our way up towards the darkened hills. we passed little eithiopia and canters deli, nova, largo, and the whole foods where some fool backed into me once. we hung a right on santa monica and creeped through the traffic. the slick west hollywood streetlights made the night as bright as day. we passed the pleasure chest, the parlour club, and the shiny closed storefronts. we drove until the sidewalks turned dirty.

i slipped the car into a spot across from velvet & applied clear l'oreal lip gloss in the rearview. dry heat rose up from the boulevard. it permeated our pores, frizzed my once-blow dried hair. he took off across the street. my bony ankles threatened to topple as I chased after him. couples with dyed black hair and lip piercings, combat boots and striped tights and corsets stood around the entrance. a mohawked photographer snapped our photo. my eyes flashed ice beneath the blaze around us.

next time I won't stop before the hills. i'll follow the pizza and powder brushes, sneak past the canyon roads clogged with cop cars. i'll end up on a mountain balcony smoking cigarettes til the sun floats up over the 101 and traces its way west over mulholland. there will be no lingering midnight glances at trannie del taco, no fingers gripping yours as we tear across the pavement. your face wasn't bathed in moonlight. it was just the street that night.