Category Archives: Oh that’s dark

my future self.

exercise class

Okay so I’m just sitting here watching the wheels go ’round and ’round but there’s really no wheels aside from the ones in my head and they are spinning. I cannot focus on anything except the wrong things, like how loud this typing sounds and how annoying those goddamn children are next door and how I don’t know if I’m hungry and I think that logically I must be as I haven’t eaten since 11:30 AM and it’s 6 PM now and that I’m not sure if I’m hungry really concerns me. I am completely overwhelmed to the point of just being stuck and unable to move, though clearly I am able to type and get this all out there. Every sound is way too present. They are talking upstairs too. Why are they doing this. Why are they walking around. Just stop and stay in one place. I was walking around too and it was making things worse.

Really, on the outside, everything looks fine and probably is fine. I love to take the fine in life and stretch and contort it into “kind of fine” and then “not very fine” and then “fuck, I’ve ruined my life.” That’s fun. I am getting better at not doing this but on days like these when you see the work piled up, it’s piled in your mind, on your computer, when you see it, you think there is no way I am going to catch up with my future self. I know she’ll be there, because that’s how time works, it is inevitable that at some point I will have made these deadlines and I will come out on the other end and try to use this panic as I reminder to myself that things are never as bad as they seem and that I always pull through but


THESE. GODDAMN. CHILDREN. NEXT. DOOR. Fuck this, I’m done, I can’t write anymore.


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Why OKCupid is terrible.

fred astaire barri chase hollywood film set

Disclaimer because this post will probably upset people: to the guys I’ve been out with on OKC lately, who are probably not even reading this, this doesn’t refer to you, so calm the fuck down, even though you pretend you don’t care, but you totally do, because all anyone wants is to be flattered, especially on the Internet. This post is about OKC and my experience with it in general, not the exceptions.

I am tired of doing this. I am tired of dating. Tired of OKCupid dating, mostly. I can’t. This is getting ridiculous. Guys, hot tip: if you don’t look like Chris Pine, do not use the photo that someone took of you on that one day where the lighting was just right and you looked, for once in your life, like Chris Pine for two seconds. Especially do not use it as your main profile photo. You have to let us know right away if you’re ugly. (And maybe you’re not actually ugly, maybe you’re just picking terrible photos that you think are flattering.) And here’s the thing, before you yell at me: I have very specific, crazy standards. Most of the guys I consider ugly are men that most people consider attractive. So don’t get angry with me, like I just sent you an email saying, “Hi, ______, I was just looking you up online and you are ugly.” No. And I’ve been called ugly. And I get it. I look like Mick Jagger. I get this. I have a weird face. Some people consider my weird face weird enough to somehow work and be beautiful. Other people see my face and think that nothing works and it’s a mess and that it’s ugly. And that’s fine. I don’t give a fuck.

Everyone tells me to change my standards. No. How about you stop being ugly? Why the fuck should I change my standards? If you don’t like my standards, then don’t date me. Find someone else who sees you and wants you for you who are. I like men who look like this. Or this. And this. I do not like men who look like this. Or this. And those last two men are men that lots of women think are insanely attractive. See? I’m not asking for Ryan Reynolds-Gosling. That isn’t my type. Do you get what I’m saying here?

Be thin. Yeah, sucks to conform to the same standards we’ve had to deal with for years, doesn’t it? Go fuck yourself. Be thin. Be creative. Be smart. Be able to play an instrument, even if it’s just barely. Be able to have an awesome conversation with me. Be kind. Be generous. And I don’t mean just with money. I mean with your time. With your patience.

Almost every time I meet a man who fits these standards, they either 1. live in New York, 2. Leave me for an ex, or 3. Both. I’ve tried long distance. If you’re worth it, I’ll do it. I visit New York a lot now that my dad lives there. But you give up on me. And I go back to OKCupid and try again. And I don’t find anyone I like, and if I do like them, they of course do not like me.

Or maybe, I hate you. Maybe you hate me. But if you’re hot, and we have heated arguments, and then hatefuck each other, I’m okay with that. Because at least there’s passion in hate.

If you want help with your OKCupid profile, I can help you. Because I really just want you to find someone who loves you as you are. I don’t want you to be an asshole like I am. I want you to be happy. I want to help you be happy. I won’t judge you. I will find the most attractive and awesome thing about you and amplify it times a thousand. And why? Because I am sick of these stupid, inane, misleading, diabolical online dating profiles. So help me help you.


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I does what I does.

david bowie ziggy stardust

Why is it so hard for me to do this? Is it depression? Laziness? Is it a desire to seem deep and mysterious, sitting my dark apartment with wine and this melancholy mix (or something) as my soundtrack? And please feel free to suggest songs that I can add to it, because I welcome everything now.

I do not understand why I choose to not do things and choose to do others. The easiest way to fail is to do what you have always done. Unless of course you have been doing well. Soaring over our heads. If you are doing well, and I hope that you are, you should tell me how you are doing it. But in a way that is not a lecture. In school when I had to sit in lectures I would draw cartoons of pigs in my notebook. Ask Dave, he will tell you that it is true. I do not know if Dave is even reading this. But if he is, he will vouch for me. My pig doodles are what started our friendship. I did not know this until years later.

Any great writer, artist, musician, even some actors, reached the levels we dream of because of talent, hard work, and discipline. I used to have all of those things. I believe that I still have talent, in the way that people believe in The Secret. There is a strange comfort in sitting here, thinking about wasting my talent in this dark old apartment, staring at the mess that is on this table I am typing on. I wish that computer keyboards clacked louder. That would be an improvement for struggling writers everywhere. It’s hearing the click of those keys that convinces us that we are working. The “CLICK CLICK FUCK YOU CLICK CLICK CLANG FUCK OFF CLACK CLACK” that comes with the hard press and release of old keyboard keys of Fitzgerald typewriters and 90’s computers.

I want to be Fiona Apple.


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I suck at everything.

Good news, everyone! I suck at everything! I want to cry and throw things and scream and laugh all at the same time, but I can’t. And you know why? Because I suck!

I usually talk about how even when things suck you have to find a way out because the more you say and believe they suck, the more they will.

SUCK SUCK SUCK EVERYTHING SUCKS I DON’T CARE, COME AT ME UNIVERSE. WITH YOUR MAGIC SUNSETS. I DARE YOU. Throw a sunset in my face, see if I give a fuck. I don’t. Spoiler alert GONE because I just said it. I DON’T GIVE A FUUUUU

How many times have I written that it’s okay to feel bad and it’s okay to suck as long as you realize it and then you can rise above it? So why can’t I? I am terrible at taking my own advice.

It’s so much easier to suck at everything than to try hard at anything.

The frightening truth is that I am not happy or okay with who I am, and I may never be. I was drifting along, like a plastic bag in the LA River, when I felt hate and loathing slowly pulse throughout my veins. For myself. People are like, “Shut up so many people would love to have your life” and I’m like, “So what who cares” and they’re like “You’re acting like a child” and I’m like “Nu uh I’m an adult” and then my mom hangs up the phone.


I keep trying to work on my book. I take one step forward and two vodka shots back. It’s hard! It’s hard you guys! And what’s the point, anyway? Who cares? “I would rather watch somebody buy their underwear than read a book they wrote.” – Andy Warhol (true story).

There are so many people out there who are so much better than I am. And by better, I mean famous.

Guys life is hard. These are worse than White Girl Problems. These are Apocalypstick Problems. Or even Uncle Almie Problems.

Why do you suck?


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Yeah, Fuck It. Seriously.

Fuck you, guitar man. Fuck you for looking beautiful as you got on stage with your guitar. Sure, you were dressed like a bartender and before you got on stage I thought you worked here, but now it’s all different. Fuck you for singing and playing the guitar so well. I don’t even know if you’re playing it well or if your general attractiveness is just translating through everything, but fuck you anyway.

Fuck you for looking like a more grown-up version of my ex, who I hope has been attacked by bears and after the bears attacked him they left him for vultures and the vultures did what they could and then a shark joined in, it actually got up out of the ocean and hobbled over, and then the bears came back because they decided they weren’t done (you know how bears are). Fuck you for looking like him and doing a really great cover of a great classic rock song mixed with another great classic new wave song. Bitch.

Fuck you for that glimpse of wedding ring that I didn’t catch until your very last song. Fuck you for being married. Fuck everyone for being married.

Fuck everyone who has ever let me down. You will never make your way back. You’re on my list. There is no getting off of this list. All of the pizza parties in the world will never get you off of this list. Oh, you don’t care? You don’t care that you’re on this list, guitar man? Too bad. Because I am an amazing friend. Once you’re my friend I will remain loyal to you with a ferociousness that is both admirable and a little scary. I am generally a good person. I am kind, generous with money, will show up to your Facebook events, and I fuck like a champion. So fuck you, guitar man. Fuck all of the guitar men of the world. And fuck you, Prince. I don’t even have a reason, but fuck you.

How Dark Is Your Dark Side — His Name Is Alive


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Interesting Ways To Kill Myself.


1.) Go to Universal Studios, get on the tram ride; once on ride wait until the tram comes to the part of the tour with the “broken bridge”; as tram crosses “breaking” bridge, wait for tour guide to give the spiel about how the bridge is out; scream, “THE BRIDGE IS OUT?? WE’LL ALL BE KILLED!” and dive out of tram into the shallow lake below.
2.) Train for my big wrestling comeback; when doctor tells me that if I wrestle my heart could go out, do it anyway, in a blaze of glory to “Sweet Child O’ Mine.”
3.) Drive a convertible off of Mulholland Drive, Thelma and Louise style; hope for freeze-frame before plummeting to death.
4.) Get trampled in a flashmob gone horribly wrong.
5.) Swallow one of every kind of pill in the house, along with assorted change found in the bottom of my purse.
6.) Eat brie until I explode.
7.) Die of second-hand embarrassment while watching January Jones host Saturday Night Live.

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Let’s All Just Feel Badly For Ourselves.

Remember all of that stuff I say about “letting it go” or something? Sometimes you just want to drink and eat McDonalds and feel sorry for yourself. Or maybe that’s just me. I don’t care, it’s my blog, I’ll write whatever I want. Anyway. Here you go, self (and possibly others), for when you want to drown in your swimming pool of self pity:

~~ You failed. You failed and you should feel bad.

~~ Everyone is lying to you. It’s not going to be OK. It’s going to be terrible. How naive are you? What are you, a Disney princess? Even worse, you’re a Disney animal. You’ve got big eyes and you talk even though you shouldn’t because you’re only a raccoon or some shit. Even worse, you’re a flower. You’re a talking flower. What the fuck.

~~ Oh you think that life is skipping down a yellow brick road, looking at puffy white clouds, while it rains gold and honey. Well guess what? Gold is heavy and honey is sticky. And if that shocks or upsets you, then I’m sorry.

~~ Have fun working at your day job for the rest of your life. You’ll get auditions, you’ll get called back, you’ll meet the producers, and then you’ll blow it. Because you suck. Everybody knows it. But nobody knows it enough to care, or tell each other. That’s how small you are. There’s not even one website that hates you.

~~ Why don’t you just keep eating? Oh, I see that not only are you eating, but you’re drinking too. Why not? No one thinks you’re attractive anyway.

~~ You’re not even rich enough or famous enough to be this short.

~~ There’s a reason why all the boys hit on your friends and not you: they’re better looking.

~~ You think that life is a journey, not a destination. Well get off the fucking bus, because you’re here.

~~ Just keep eating, really. No one likes thin people. It’s not like thin people get benefits or anything. It’s not like thin people are better than you are. Oh no wait IT’S EXACTLY LIKE THAT. But go ahead and have that 3rd glass of Sofia sparkling wine.

~~ YOU ARE BAD AT EVERYTHING THAT YOU DO. You don’t even breathe correctly; you always breathe through your mouth. What are you, a barnyard animal? Even barnyard animals get benefits; fairs, parades, petting zoos. Have you ever been a prize pig? Fuck no you haven’t. You haven’t been a prize anything. This means that even pigs have a better chance of winning something than you do.

~~ And fuck you, Beck. You are not a loser and you are not allowed to sing a song about how you are one. Just go back to your Scientology castle and hang out with Giovanni Ribisi. No one is buying your bullshit. You are not a loser. Goddamn you and your lies. You sit on a throne of lies.

~~ What don’t you fucking understand?

~~ Oh Oh Oh I get it, you’re going to be really hard on yourself, oh that’s so hilarious, oh how you dazzle me. Great scott! Oh here we go with the Back to the Future references.

~~ I think I might be Marty McFly for Halloween, what do we think about this?

~~ GET OVER YOURSELF. WHAT THE HELL. You’re acting stupid. You ARE stupid. You don’t even know how to tie your shoes the real way! You just make two bunny ears and tie those together. That’s idiotic.

~~ The failboat has no room for you, it cannot contain your failure. Everyone on the Titanic is laughing at you, as the ship is sinking. That is how much you fail. The captain’s like, “LOL” and Leo DiCaprio is like, “OMG” and Billy Zane is all, “SRSLY U GUISE.”

~~ How is “Titanic” over a decade old?? You are OLD.

~~ Welcome to your life. There’s no turning back.

~~ You stole that from Tears for Fears. How sad is that?

~~ That’s not sad, that’s a great line.

~~ From a new wave 80s band.

~~ So?

~~ So you don’t find that lame?

~~ It’s not my fault that Tears for Fears said it best! Fuck you!

~~ What? Fuck YOU.

~~ Fine!

~~ FINE.

Everybody Wants To Rule The World — Tears For Fears
I’m A Loser — The Beatles
The Decline And Fall Of Me — Sparks
Take The Long Way Home — Supertramp
Sad Songs (Say So Much) — Elton John
Torn — Natalie Imbruglia
Even The Losers — Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
Everybody Wants To Rule The World — Patti Smith


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