get low

i'm always digging for independent and interesting movies; save the awesome sci-fi or bang bang action movie. i'm cool with the drivel hwood cranks out. dime o dozen, my friend. i'm such a movie nerd that i've finessed my sense of a good movie within 5 minutes. that's right, 5 minutes to take me by the hand and show me the way.

to me, things that are on the radar without incessant promotion and all that usually turn out to be excellent works of art. sure there's the guilty pleasure of movies just for fun (twilight: total eclipse for example was awesome. my favorite in the series).

i came across get low and it had two things i enjoy in movie narratives; hillbilly gothic set in the past and robert duvall. i love it when he plays old southern coots. he get so into it; very naturalistic, witty, and has this brilliant ability to convey a ravaged tormented soul underneath an abrasive exterior. he seems to mix method with subtle improvisations.

the movie is so awesome if for him alone. he plays this old hermit felix bush who's retreated into the woods alone, long hair and beard, with his shotgun, a horse, and mixtures of medicinal herbs. news of an old acquaintance passing sets the story in motion as felix realizes his own death is nigh. so begins his journey of redemption.

a tragic incident in his life is what made him retreat from humanity and god. he never asked forgiveness from god, and his heart was forever broken. he goes to the church pastor and offers a wad of cash for his funeral. he wants people to come and share the stories they've heard about him; this is all hogwash of course, because he doesn't have the balls to tell his own story. in isolating himself what did he become in the eyes of the people in the county?

he connects with quinn and buddy who run a funeral parlor and they become his only friends; driving him around, getting him groomed and tailored, and invariably companions on his path to

salvation.

the production design, location, and costumes are beautiful. it is though worth watching alone for duvall's exquisite acting in this story. i myself got choked up at one point, my heart breaking at felix's sense of hopelessness and anguish.

lovely little gem, my friends. see it.

mslisa

calvin face thoughts

fB is generally fun and a cool way to link to friends abroad. sometimes a weird form of passive voyeurism (knowing what's going on in a person's life or their interactions with others without being directly involved). you can also connect with people from the past, which is sadly hit or miss.

i friended a dude i had a massive crush on in 10th grade in high school. he doesn't remember me specifically of course because i was the geeky punk girl lingering in the background pining for the (to me) john hughes type dreamboat who was in a band and....well you get the picture.

teenage wasteland-type shit.

he lives up north and every now and then pops back down to earth to reconnect with friends. over the weekend there was a reunion show with his old ska bandmates. i ended up not going since i was beat and it's not 1982. i mean, honestly the thought of us middle-aged berkeley high kids collectively reliving the past seemed a tad depressing.

we connected this afternoon and i gave him a ride to the airport. he is a sweet and charming dude, but also utterly fucked up. he has mental issues (which he's honest about) on meds to maintain his well being and essentially adrift; keeping himself in tact through and with the kindness and support of others. for a dude of 45 this is odd to me.

his stories are amusing, but something doesn't sound right. either he's embellishing or has the time lines of his life mixed up or is (worst case senario) dellusional. something is just off.

so the teenage fantasy and adult reality collide in my own mind. we didn't really know one another then or have any sort of relationship / friendship. he was the cat i admired from afar. he's a sweet dude though and i am a compassionate woman. we all need to connect to someone even through many degrees of separation from our adolescence. you exist friend, you're okay. i made him laugh and listened to his stories, but it made me a bit sad too to hear him talking about how being a 'mod' is his true self. mod? that was nothing more than a pop culture revival when we were kids in the early 80s.

it's like an elephant in the room. dude is sweet, but deeply wounded and not right in the head.

*sigh* illusions shattered! you really can't go back, ya know.

*****

then he walks in. dinner party at a co-worker's over his excellent cooking and even more nutritional conversation. i meet his classmate james who he referred to lil t's parents for a piano tutor. *blam* exactly the kind of cat i asked the universe to reveal to me. tattoo love boy geek. of course the universe plays cruel ironic jokes on chicks like me: he's 25 years younger, 

But that's cool. I am happy to admire from afar and just resign myself to a 'that just don't make no kind of sense' state of mind. shit. cotdamn. :(

i am however being focused on by said colleague and co-worker who is 5 years younger. okay, reasonable right? but i'm not that into him. he's tripped out, high-octane, and i'm not attracted to him in that way. but he is awesome and i really enjoy our conversations.

tattoo love boy! he even plays chopin.....*sigh*

mslisa

diary of a PA

greetings!

so it would appear my luck has taken a turn. i also realized that i needed to be doing some other work besides teaching alone. i was starting to feel the burnout from the behind-the-scenes drama; although i'm doing an excellent job supporting the kids and staff yet getting sweated for my time.

there's also intent to transition into something else after the school year ends. so, i take a rather flexible part-time job as a home assistant for a retired gay couple not far from my place. sounds ideal; something i've been doing on and off for years and most importantly - laid back.

they're a charming older couple into their 80s, wealthy, comfortable, in a house like a museum filled with beautiful art and shangri-la for a backyard. they spend their days in rooms filled with stuff and toiling meticulously over every day things. i learned today how to fold shirts in the style of a j crew display. i was also learning about their extensive files.

persnickity to say the least, but sweet. i'm familiar with it because i've worked for older rich people before and in most cases they have nothing to do with their time other than take their time obsessing over life's details. they're also not particularly adept at managing their own lives, they just hire someone else do it for them.

i got a check for two days work at a $84.00 / 10 is $8.40hr or what you would pay a teenager. i was stunned. money hadn't been discussed because i assumed the rate would be $20.00hr (my usual rate as a personal assistant on the low-end).

i do like being in the company of cultured, well-off people. it's just a different energy than the forever struggling and stressing mere mortal (self included). i can take a break from reality and see how others live in utter financial freedom writing bills for the amount due in full with the stroke of a pen. who does that?! 

it's also networking. rich people know other rich people and so on. there is always the possibility of getting another project, job, or client through them.

today was a little stressful near the end of the afternoon; helping one with his mac and an archaic collection of passwords (caps, no caps, 'o' or '0', cat's name or mr blah blah?) and trying to ween him off the AOL, which seems to have anyone over 70 by the balls. *sigh*

i decided to move on to something else. i despise cheapness in people especially those who can afford to pay me a decent wage. reciprocity, my man! good begets good and generosity begets generosity.

mslisa

how i spent my MLK day

i went for a walk in the morning fog and bought a fresh baguette at acme. i strolled further on to get cigarettes, circled back, and stopped at REI; checked out the members sale in the back room (seriously, even a hi-tech camping pad for $15.00 is no deal if it has an unidentified leak). tried on a few jackets (what is my attraction to green? i need to switch it up to purple maybe. i'm still reminded of of the diesel military jacket i didn't swoop on at a second hand store. *sigh*)

i continued my walk back, stopping to check out a new gym that advertised boxing boot camp. ooo! checked the price, $ 150.00 for a seven week course. oh! i got back home and made a brunch of poached egg, banana, and pieces of baguette. so nice.

i cooked roasted chicken with quinoa to share with a co-worker, cleaned house, watched several excerpts of eyes on the prize (my favorite civil rights documentary), listened to mahalia jackson's trouble the water numerous times (god, i love that song and the way she sings it), posted gobs of MLK on facebook, read the new york times, goss on the dailymail, and generally chilled out.

i never cease to be awed by king and his words, even in a christian context. one of his speeches in montgomery, alabama 1965 he quotes a verse from james russell lowell's the present crisis so eloquently and epically that you feel it in your bones:

Truth forever on the scaffold,

Wrong forever on the throne,

Yet that scaffold sways the future,

And, behind the dim unknown,

Standeth God within the shadow,

Keeping watch above his own.

How long? Not long, because the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.

How Long? Not Long!

....listen for yourself and be moved.

mslisa

SF: the suck

i try to avoid being miserably negative, but SF as it is now - sucks. it's become one big gentrified west coast williamsburg. insanely overcrowded and overpriced. ipod people in skinny jeans everywhere. dog walkers. young white girls with that valley girl, overly earnest speech pattern. (really, where do they learn to talk like that? it is simultaneously dingbat and abrasive). in all fairness maybe, yeah i'm getting older and as you get older your patience for bullshit and (annoying) change dwindles to shit.

i remember when you could cruise a thrift store that wasn't packed with loud talking idiot hipsters and large extended families. things were super cheap. it was a chill way to spend an afternoon treasure and style hunting. now, i have to plan a day and get their early or else i'm on the parking hunt for a good hour of my secret agent life (and a secret agent needs to find parking).

see, i try to be real creative to circumvent the gazillions of change required for an hour meter just to rush to a place and rush back. that to me is no fun. i know these cross and side streets where it's 2 hrs of free parking, but get to the Mission after 11am on a weekend and you're gonna be searching for a minute. the suck!

the laid back days of SF are gone. it's all about competition now; for space, time, productivity, a good cup of coffee, a good deal. i almost got plowed down by two yuppies blazing up 14th st. (probably late to a brunch with their other yuppie homies). it kills me how all these progressive minded liberals have moved here from somewhere else looking for cultural diversity. 90% of the people i see in the city on average are white hanging out with other white liberal-minded people, their dogs and ipods, obama t-shirts, and sipping fair trade coffee.

boring! boo!

i was born here. this is my hometown. who are these invaders? tragic really, but alas, it is one of the coolest places to live if you're here on the left coast of things. they can have all the condos and artisinal goodies they so desire. i remember pickle family circus and the old russian ladies who made the best peroshki, the hippies hanging out on the haight, the potlucks and conga drums in golden gate park, grade school in the bayview, rollerskates, the funk mothership and missile pops. no, the invaders can't have any of those things. 

mslisa

black dog blues

here it comes again; the malcontent, the lone wolf, the black dog blues. i eat everything in sight and then a malaise sweeps over me. this lasts about a week or two before my cycle. the emotional grim reaper. i'm not very well suited to anyone's company. i simply retreat into myself and though i must fake it out in the world (working, doing stuff), i keep the brave face, smile, avoid deep conversation, but still maintain my ability for social interaction, although nothing too strenuous.

i felt it today dealing with the 6G clowns. seriously could snap a twig. the lady soliders on. it got a bit better. i made taiwo laugh with my 'gay ghetto disco' story from an adventure saturday night. i got loads of hugs from the kids. the day's classes went generally pretty cool. i indulged a fresh blueberry cheese danish in the morning. fuck it!

i ducked out though directly after my last class. i just needed to be home and coalesce; make a bit of dinner, wrap myself in jams and cool out. i go through this every month and just ride it out perhaps with some herbs, loads of tea, and vitamins.

what else can i do? prozac? *not*. i believe that most emotional swings can be adapted to through sheer will and conscious awareness or treated in a holistic way. like yoga vegan tacos or whatever. i have this vision for myself and i'm not a pill popper ill-equipped to deal with life or my own estrogen imbalances woman.

there's always the soothing vibe of oto and of course, dub.

mslisa

a series of strange encounters

okay, so now what?

the other day after a futile attempt to park in the garage at trader joe's, i found a spot a block away, in a normally congested part of town. i passingly glanced at a sign about 'permit parking' and ignored it. having acquired a few edibles i get back to the car about 30 mins later. some lady asks me, 'do you have a permit to park here?'

'no.' i reply.

'consider yourself lucky, normally you could get a $60.00 ticket.' (she had a curiously mocking tone as if to say; you didn't, but you almost did. hahaha!)

'i am lucky, thanks. what...ever.'

and off i go with my no ticket having self. the next encounter was getting bum rushed by some dude in the beat down church next to the school. i simply ducked in the lot to have a cigarette (and avoid the young dudes coming down the street). at first the old man was a bit puffed-up as if expecting me to be a psycho crackhead looking to jack the piles of junk in the back lot.

once it is clearly established this i am not, he then goes into some story about a dude who tried to steal the milk crates and cussed him out.

old man, i was just having a smoke and gazing at the feral cat back there.

on the way home, 7-11 for a slurpee. one of those rare occasion fixes - mmm! immediately i'm approached by a freak who first addresses me as 'bro'' then realizes i'm a lady and then calls me 'miss'. hits me up for change, bitches about the bleakness of his current situation. when i get back to the car he says i look like his niece. it seems in a matter of minutes a whole surreal relationship has evolved with this dude.

after being home for awhile, out for cigarettes, again some street skels chatter at me. this time i turn all channels off. i recall earlier this week, lisa, the hot mess chick i remember as a constantly fucked up metal hesher in high school, comes cruising by my stoop in a wheel chair with a busted leg. she's baaacck and making small talk. i slam the door to my flat in a very dramatic do not talk to me! gesture.

what is going on? i started tripping about the kind of human energy that is a reflection of you, which freaks me the fuck out. then i get a grip and ponder; perhaps my open and accepting nature is what compels these freaks to talk to me. then the pendulum swings the other way and i see them as some ominous foreshadowing of my life in the future. the ghost of crackheaded things to come.

okay, seriously. it's just my imagination running amok; my acuity to energy and signals. what is the universe communicating to me at this juncture? i don't feel at all that i'm headed to such a lowly state of existence, but quite the opposite. i also see signs pointing to india and rahjastan. so what's up with that?

odd frequencies afoot, but i'm choosing to just be cool and retain my humanity. 

mslisa