flora's musings on whatever lies beneath the sun

this is what i did in san francisco: i caught a marcus foster show at the elbo room. after being despondent about having to miss his san diego gig, i found out jet blue was having a one-day sale so i bought a ticket to sanfran. ended up staying at a flophouse, the frances hotel at 16&mission. i mean it -- it was a FLOPHOUSE. my room was tiny and dingy and drenched in cigarette smoke. the walls were dirty and peeling paint in some parts, the carpet was filthy, with black spots, and the tiny window was covered with a sheet of fabric. i only had one towel, a tiny bar of soap, and a roll of toilet paper to take with me when i had to use the loo in the hallway. i only stayed there overnight, but i was a bit freaked--some lady had a ranting and raging spell in the wee hours of the morning, punctuated by thuds against the wall. i slept on top of the twin bed and placed my shirt over the pillow, with my sweater as cover. i didn't bother showering in the morning. after throwing on some clothes and brushing my teeth, i got out of there by 8am sunday.


i'll never forget the frances hotel, especially the kind souls who helped me out when i needed to hail a cab to marcus's show and when i thought the door to the hotel was jammed.

funny moments: hotel guy asks a lady tenant for the number to a cab: "it's 333-3333." hotel guy can't get through to anyone at that number so he asks another tenant, the guy who hailed a cab for me: "oh, that's 777-7777." inside, i was laughing. then i went outside with the guy and he ran in the middle of the street, his dog tucked under his arm, waving his other arm, and i yelled, "nooo, get over here, we can hail a cab from this side!" when a cab arrived not a minute later, the guy opened the door for me.

as depressing as that flophouse was, i don't regret my stay there.

and? marcus foster was totally worth it. maybe one day i will tell him what i went through just to catch his show in sanfran.

did i mention that sanfran international airport is a fuckin' maze? yeah, let's not go there.

(originally dated mon., sept. 1, 2008, 9:39 a.m.)

i continue to be fat. i still fit in my size 12 pants that i wear for work, and have not gone up any sizes, but they are a bit snug around the ass though a bit loose in the waist. (i'm a pear, suitable for eating).

i am sick of summer. it's coming to a close, though, and hopefully will find me feeling much better, with trying an antidepressant for the first time in my life. i've been in denial for far too long about my depression (which i've self diagnosed as dysthymia) and i'm not getting any younger and i just want to feel better. that's all. if i feel better, i wouldn't be so fat. i know this.

the city of los angeles is going mad. i blame it on the economy. there have been robberies on my street. the sneaky asses pretended to be moving, when really they were robbing three apartments next to each other. in broad daylight. no one suspected anything because people move in and out on this street all the time. all of the apartments on this street are month to month leases. this area is becoming ghettoized.

i don't feel safe anymore.

(originally dated mon., jan. 14, 2008, 6:36 p.m.)

i'm not in love with anyone. no one likes me that way. i signed up on okcupid but i'm not getting messaged by the guys i'm interested in save for this old fat guy that i've been talking to. he is very unattractive to me and i don't think he's funny at all. he has commercials on myspace. YUCK! i have stopped responding to his emails. i hope he gets the hint.

it is getting harder and harder to go into work now. i don't know how much longer i can take this.

(originally dated jan. 3, 2008, 11:30 a.m.)

the holidays are over now, and i breathe a huge fuckin' sigh of relief. i am broke, and currently on vacation from my low ass job. since my fatty status is at the helm of my mind, it's the first thing i want to resolve in the year 2008. i feel gross and ugly this way. i'm sorry, but everyone who is obese or fat and claims to be fine with it, is full of crap and probably needs a right enema. liars, liars, all of them. it's just a way to rationalize their fatness, their powerlessness to lose the extra weight. i'm not saying it's easy, but if you're proactive and making changes in your lifestyle, it'll make you feel that much better about yourself. healthy eating doesn't have to be expensive!

anyhow. happy new year everyone.

(originally dated dec. 16, 2007, 8:01 p.m.)

i live in los angeles. although i'm a native, i'm still awed by its lazy, bragging sprawl and its dirtiness and its choking smog that laces its brown face on the horizon. yet, at night, when i drive, i'm always struck by its concrete beauty, the way the buildings jut up into the skyline and shine its lights from above. i was driving through boyle heights tonight and passed graffiti-defaced railroad boxes and apartment buildings and then a crumpled up motorcycle by the side of the center divide on the 101. a fire truck was parked next to it, but there was no body. that lane was closed, and everyone became a gawker, brake lights going on and off. it's easy here, to be a gawker, even when you're a native. you are always surprised by the city's antics, the shard of fear that slices through you when you witness such scenes.

life and death happen so easily in los angeles.

(originally dated: nov. 6, 2007, 5:48 a.m.)

now the mornings are darker when i wake up. and the air is noticeably chillier. i must start wearing my sweaters again.

my coworker quit last week so the boss placed an ad online, touting our "great salary and benefits." i laughed. and laughed. it's hardly a living wage for living in los angeles. the rents are high here, but they don't seem to care. the office is full of older employees who have been there for 20 years, easy.

today is tuesday. maybe it'll be a better day than yesterday. maybe something miraculous will happen.

maybe i should play the lottery. no, i should DEFINITELY play the lottery.

Something fishy is going on. I got a refund of $298 from the IRS. This must be a boo boo because I am not supposed to get anything back; in fact, I had to pay them BACK, through my arsehole. Oh yeah. That was great fun. And I'm pretty sure I didn't overpay. But then again, I know nothing of these tax matters. Which explains why I have a tax lady, though she has been lax lately, what with the recent death of her father. It might take a while for her to get back to me.

Yeah, the lax tax lady. Hawhaw.

**
Hey, about that new Red Hot Chili Peppers' CD. I lurve it, but am I being paranoid about that "Cabron" song? Judging by the song title, I am assuming that Mr. Kiedis is talking about some Latino dude mad dogging him, saying, "I am small but I am strong, You see I'm just like you, If you only knew, that I am just like you."

Umm, I am sure Mr. Kiedis has good intentions, but that is taking a big step by saying he is just like that Latino dude. Has he experienced racial discrimination? Mr. Kiedis is a white male, so he has hardly experienced such. Wouldn't that just be a tad presumptuous to know what the Latino guy has been through? You have no idea. You know? You lead the life of a rock star, getting all the chicks and drugs you want. Puh-lease. He cannot possibly compare his life to the Joe Shmo wearing the Dodger blue, all right.

Now that I think about it some more, I KNOW I'm not paranoid.

Oof. I gots me a pain in my left shoulder, a big ole knot in my neck. I have probably been thinking about this way too much. If someone bit this knot, it probably wouldn't hurt that much.