im going to write this off the top of my head to you tony and you are goin to put it up at lick or on your blog and revamp it if you want but you told me you loved me especially for my writingness.

as the world has noticed raymi has been on hiatus, building her mysteries and going a little, uh, manic. the real world is a scarey place for a hermit but then you eventually go oh yeh, that’s the world and that’s me and i am in it, right, i remember.

i get driven around everywhere or i walk and i’m hyper and i am sad and i am happy and then i am angry but in the end i am forgiving of whatever garbage happened, and then i take the blame for it and go you idiot you put yourself in that situation, look at you now.

i live in this little bubble of a town and it’s like the canadian hamptons and stuff but i dig it it learns me good but scares me a bit. i have a global mind, you know, and i miss my friends and foes all over the place, my heart is the size of a hot air balloon.

blogging made me paranoid, being a micro-celeb made me neurotic, sadness made me promiscuous, confidence made me scream at people and happiness made me cry.

i just wanted you to know that i am ok and i plan to get better and i am looking forward to fall, even winter and hopefully i’ll have a mini-vacation to los fagalus and possibly make amends with the police dept. of manhattan beach, heh.

i think people in my town think that i am a witch ‘cos of my long black hair and how i walk around talking to myself, well i did there for a bit, but only in my backyard and yes my neighbours have decided to fuck off and move. the property taxes have gone way up ‘cos of all the monster homes.

oh and everyone longboards now, tho i am still the only gurl and i have anti to thank for that and whitey for busticating his leg and being traumatised and i have weed to thank for the courage to bomb around like a crazyhorse.

can you make this make sense and if there are typos, highlight them and leave ’em.

– raymi the agnostic teacher preacher leacher

ps. ya ain’t seen nothin’ yet.

pps. i’m single and it’s ok.

raymi + when raymi met bunny on lick + about raymi

wont talk to you? not because she doesnt like you, but because shes terribly shy?

i can understand where shes coming from. certain things make me terribly shy too. especially when people want to befriend me due to my blog. cuz everyone knows that nothing in here is true so therefore the man they want to meet doesnt exist.

+ + +

my lawyer says i need an agent. she said, how is Danger Mouse getting booked at a killer web conference with true pioneers like Marc Andreessen, Laurence Lessig, and Jerry Yang, and i’m not?

maybe they dont need someone who actually writes every day on the web at these web fests?

+ + +

“I like it [L.A.] much better than I used to, probably because I like New York much less. As New York has gotten duller and duller, L.A. seems less awful. I doubt very much that L.A. has become less awful, it’s just that in contrast to New York it seems less awful. You never have to have human contact here; there are very few actual humans to have contact with.”

– Fran Lebowitz via lablogs

+ + +

Shocker of the Day:

Dolly Parton had fake bazooms?

Shocker of the Day #2:

After all these years she is having them removed!

Shocker of the Day #3:

This info was provided by the buzzmachine!

+ + +

Comedy Central claims that the viewers of the emmy-winning Daily Show, infact, are *not* “stoned slackers” as that vaunted journalist Bill O’Reilly claimed last week while interrogating interviewing Jon Stewart.

Neilson Research concluded that viewers of the Daily Show were actually more likely to have a college education than viewers of The Factor, AP reports today.

well, duh.

No report yet on how many viewers of The Factor still believe that Iraq was behind 9/11, believe in the Easter Bunny, or still think that Michael Moore hates america.

me, i heart america.

and i really heart the UK for writing this:

How Bush’s grandfather helped Hitler’s rise to power

+ + +

“When will corporate blogging be recognised as a desirable skill?”

a wonderful article that is now on Corante, and if the wonderful woman who i have an interview with this week really does read my blog, i hope she reads this article.

+ + +

Tsar plays Friday night at the Scene in Glendale!

+ + +

Bush’s hometown paper supports Kerry. if the president read newspapers he would be real mad.

j.d. salinger got me into writing. college scarred me from writing stories by convincing me i sucked.

and blogging got me back into it.

so now that we’re full-circle, look at who’s coming out of the past and back into my life?

the woman who started it all, S.E. Hinton is going to be reading from and signing her new book in brentwood tomorrow, so blogging.la tells us.

now im a little weary because blogging.la also told me to go to the lobster.fest and we all know how that little fiasco wound up.

S.E., author of such classics like The Outsiders; That Was Then, This Is Now; Rumble Fish, and Tex, apparently has just come out with her first non-teen novel Hawkes Harbor which amazon calls “a dark, funny, scary, suspenseful tale that will entertain mainstream and adventure/horror readers alike.”

Would S.E. mind if L.L. called her return a comeback? It’s been 20 years since she’s released anything.

All I know is I want to go but i already rsvp’ed to go to the LA Press Club’s celebration of tsarfan and reason editor Brian Doherty’s fine book (which i even read) This Is Burning Man.

get drunk with my friends at a swanky beverly hills press club event or be a fanboy to the woman who began this sickness that i have with reading and writing – and then drink with karisa afterward?

what would ponyboy do?

brian doherty reviews the classic Smile cd + hit and run + i cant wait to vote

i feel like such a loser.

yesterday sk smith wrote about the value of knocking out 500 words a day.

i could write 500 words standing on my head, i thought, but then she brought up the caveat that writers should actually try to peice together 500 words of quality each day.

ho.

karisa and i chatted on the phone last night, something we dont do nearly enough. we dont do anything nearly enough.

on saturday renee and i went to the redondo beach lobster farce, i mean fest. $10 to get in which includes zero lobster.

when you get in there was one sidewalk of street-fair foods (chicken on a stick, thai in a box, clam chowdah in bread bowls, etc). only one place to get lobster and that place had the longest line youve ever seen.

and it cost $17 for a lobster, a half ear of corn, and a styrofoam cup of cole slaw.

i was all, fuck this.

one guy with his hottie on his arm yelled out, I was Rooked!

never one to look a thick serving of chicken on a stick me and my bestest decided that although we too had been rooked we were going to eat our way out of this sticky situation and not only had the undercooked chicken

but shared a nicely hot fresh funnel cake, and took a pathetic lobster sandwhich roll for the ride home.

dick dale was scheduled to play but we couldnt stand hanging out there for very long as it was, indeed, a disaster.

making me realize once and for all that i need to be in charge of Everything.

heres what you do when you have a lobster fest.

fucking fest, people.

they had two of the hugest boiling pots of lobster youve ever seened. put one of those pots on one side of the fest and one on the other. that way the lines go twice as fast and they seem half as short.

call me einstein.

then set up a few more booths to sell the lobster. have one that sells spicy lobster. have one that sells lobster balls. have one that sells fried lobster. have one that sells lobster soup.

but whatever you do, dont just have one place to get lobster and run around calling it a fest.

we were so upset we could barely enjoy the fresh squeezed lemonade and shivver next to the sand.

as we left and people were lined up waiting to hand over their $10 i wanted to say,

it’s a rip,

you’re better off just going to the chart house,

but i didn’t because im… polite?

isnt it more polite to inform people that theres bullshit waiting for them around the corner?

later we went food shopping and i got everything that i normally dont get: cooked peeled shrimp, handfulls of beefaroni, french bread that’s doomed to stale in hours, flowers for the crib, C2 cuz now im addicted, mint milanos…

because we blow so much money on so many dumb things in life

no need to skimp at the grocery store where most things are relatively inexpensive in comparison.

when i got hom my 91 year old landlady called me to tell me that someone had been parking in my spot

and i thanked her

and brought her the roses.

574 + yesterday + was + basart’s + birthday!

To: You

Subj: Wild On… Taiwan

Actually I am in Hong Kong now. Just arrived today. It is also the Moon Festival, although I have not seen the moon, let alone the sun since I got here. Today may well in fact be Asia version of a sunny day, that is… not raining.

Taiwan was tres grisaille, however my first couple days were spent in jet-lagged wandering, street after street and stall after stall of clothes shoes monkey brains fishmongers butchers, the smell was intoxicating to say the least. The humidity left me soaked to the skin and the tremendous pollution left me wanting to sport one of those face masks all the locals wore, very Michael Jackson.

I stayed with distant relatives in Chungli, had a posse of 10 year-old girls following me everywhere. Only one spoke English, and they would all whisper questions to her to ask me. I managed to recollect my college Chinese enough to not make me feel like a complete mute, but the nonsensical chatter is soothing in a way, I don’t have to think, or converse, just smile.

I was going into social withdrawl, and made my cousin take us to a club. Just happened to be a BALLROOM DANCING club. Turns out it is very popular there. Unfortunately I don’t ChaCha and there was no bar there, I thought I was going to die of boredom. I thought I would freak if someone asked me to dance. Some middle-aged businessman asked me, I couldn’t even look at him, bu yao, bu yao, I said, my face so red, I imagine, my mom laughed her ass off.

So then she takes us to a real club, a disco. I was so ready for a coctail at that point, they pour a pretty shitty drink there, once I could actually communicate what it was I wanted. It was Ladies Night which meant some male dancers. First of all, I don’t find asian guys too attractive, but I can appreciate the male form, and I might have if every song they danced to wasn’t Michael Jackson, and they weren’t ALL a bunch of homos (no offense Adrian). And of course I am sitting in the front row. He takes my water bottle and gyated a bit then poured the water all over himself (Remember when you walked out of puppetry of the penis, simone, it was like that.)

After 2 days there, I was nearly eaten alive my mosquitos, my stomach was in knots, (from the milk maybe, I had a caramel macchiato at Starbucks, trying to relish the US, you’d think they would have soy milk, but nooo…Could have been the unsanitary conditions of the street food vendors, from which I ate from nearly every stall I passed, or simply from all the carbs, my first stop in the morning (at 6 in the morning, as if… I would ever get up that early, jet lag, right… The pastries and bread, cream puffs, onion rolls, sooo good, a shock to the Atkins system to say the least)

So anyway I had to make my escape to Taipei and the comforts of the Grand Hyatt, and was it ever grand, I felt bad leaving my relatives and mother there, but I couldn’t sleep on that hard matress, sweating all night, getting eaten alive… you get the picture.

I didn’t leave the hotel at all the first day, the gym was fab, the club was pretty cool, too, American band doing covers, had to explain the finer poins of the vodka martini to the bartenders (shaken, not stirred). But I managed to bridge my jet-lagged self and get my 2nd wind closing the place down.

Anyhow, in HK, net is costing a fortune be home soon, the 3rd, my b-day.

lovelovelove,

meesh

our first interview chat with meesh two years ago + meeting meesh + meesh and her pals