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Thursday, July 2, 2009


So my neighbors had DirecTV perform a root canal on my ceiling at 8am waking me up from my dream where I’d taken a trip to Iran and slept through the whole ordeal and then later when people asked how it was I had to lie and say “It was awesome”, because I was ashamed at having squandered the opportunity. And then I had to get a job as a personal assistant working in a cave but part of my responsibilities included sorting Ethan Hawke’s jeans, which were folded neatly in some kind of cave-ish crevice, and just by attempting to sort them I made an even bigger mess, Then my sister Hilary, who had arranged the whole trip to Iran, made a pit stop at the cave to show me a video montage of me sleeping on various boats. "Here you are again," she'd point with the remote control at me on a canoe with my tongue hanging out, “We just carried you place to place.”

DirecTV Drill: zzzzzzzzzblahhrthhhhhyuymhnzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I opened my door to investigate and was thrown by an even louder drilling noise. “Omigod…,” I didn’t even mean to say.

My neighbors, who live right across the hall, had left their door open and I saw a teenager emerge from their hallway in Sponge Bob boxers and a potbelly and challenge me with a “What?” and I wondered if the lesbian couple had adopted an indignant teenager from Encino.

I came out in my Hermit Outfit (pink robe, and these special socks my sister got me for Minnesota winters) and saw there were two men in blue button-downs crouched like how animals shit, directly above where I lay my precious head. “What are you doing?”

“We’re here from DirecTv!” one man said with a smile so big he was like a special needs person showing me an art project he’d made with my jewelry while I was sleeping.


Now I was the curmudgeon. All I could do was make eggs. It’s a process for me to cook because I have no three-prong outlets so every time I want to use an appliance I go through an unplugging and replugging process with my adapter. Sometimes I imagine someone coming to stay at my place (not sure if it's a nightmare or a fantasy...just a thought hypothetical in nature) and I have to carefully explain all my systems, how they can function quite happily in my little box if they follow my instructions. "You can use the toaster oven at the same time as the hot plate because the plug is a two-prong." "NEVER turn off the lights. Then the refridgerator stops working." And then down to the more frivilous details, "The mirror goes BEHIND the flowers to create the illusion of MORE flowers."

I sat with my eggs watching the footage I’d collected the night before in a fit of inspiration…about five minutes of a stream of water hitting a pile of pennies in my bathroom sink, then me lip syncing to something I made on Garage Band…holding candles up to my face and so forth. Who am I.

Why do I live in Hollywood.

That’s what I thought as I bundled back into bed. My beautiful dark room. Kind of chilly, felt like a cabin. Full bottle of Mountain Spring water by my bed. Traffic like distant rain.

Then the hammering began.