Something In The Way She Moves

Since I love love stories, I made this married couple tell me about how they met and when they knew they’d be together forever (well, hopefully forever). The woman is a knock-out by anyone’s standards. He’s cute in his own little way. He said he knew she was the one almost immediately… I made some quip, “yeah, ‘cuz she’s fucking hot… who wouldn’t think she was the one.”

He replied, “I’ve seen plenty of gorgeous women, but there was something about her mannerisms… something about the way she carried herself… it was those little things.”

For some reason, that simple comment really stuck with me… James Taylor said that too, “it’s something in the way she moves…”

Then I started thinking about the men in which I’m attracted. Obsession for instance, people who’ve seen him think he’s kinda’ cute, but to me, there’s just something about the way he moves… the sound of his laugh or how he rests his hands on the bar.

Because really, there can be 10 hot men standing in front of you… they each get the chance to introduce themselves… then you watch them for a moment… and what, what is it that makes you most attracted to one of them? Even if they had the same features as the next.

It’s his energy… his subtle mannerisms… yes, it’s something in the way he moves.


WHO THE FUCK DOESN'T HAVE MY TELEPHONE NUMBER!??! ---

Remember a few days ago when I wrote about ‘accidentally’ giving my number to a few people… people who proceeded to call and text me incessantly!??!!?

From that post, I made a vow that I would not give my number out to strangers… well, recently I was in the market for a used bicycle. There’s this one bike I checked out, but didn’t like. I’d given him my number because we had to set that meeting time up… I actually thought he was gay because he wore some chic Burberry scarf with cute cuffed jeans.

Apparently I was wrong. Here’s how the call went:

Bike Guy, “hey there, remember me?” I didn’t. “I have a friend who’s selling a bike and wondered if you were still looking for one.”

“Oh… actually I got one this weekend, but thank you for thinking of me.”

“Okay… just thought I’d ask.”

We hang up.

The text comes.

“Hello Miss Curious. I was wondering if u R free some time this week for a cold or hot drink. What I mentioned about the bike its totally true!”

Obviously, he chickened out when he called me about that “other bike” and had to text me right after to ask me out for a cold or hot drink.

From past experiences, I know that in these situations with strangers, I have to say that I’m completely unavailable.

I tried to be light-hearted and texted back, “Thank you for asking, but I’m dating someone… You are very sweet.”

That response didn’t mean completely unavailable.

He texts back, “I can wait…”

WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!? WAIT!?!??!?!??!?!? Wait for what? I saw you once… rode your bike down the street… that’s it. That’s what you’re going to wait for?!?!?!??! What the hell?

I didn’t reply.

1:41 am… my phone buzzes with a text… just as I was dozing off… “Thanks sweety…”

AGAIN, WHAT THE FUCK!??!?! “THANKS SWEETY”?!?!?! FOR WHAT?!?!??!

And that time I gave my number out for a legitimate reason. Bleh.

Anyway, annoying. I hate getting woken up by strangers calling and texting. FUCK THAT!!!

Hahaha... it's humorous.

I Got My Lip Bit

Monday Night Dice is typically a mellow evening of drinks and dice (obviously) at a predominantly gay bar. However, there is one adorable straight lil’ bartender that cut me off last April… do we remember this note written on receipt paper?

Anyway, for the past few Monday Night Dice games, he’s been so kind as to let me play my iPod on the bar speakers… and trust me, he let me play my shit LOUDLY.

For his kindness, I decided to burn him a CD. I gave it to him last night… he seemed very appreciative. I half-expected him to say, “oh thanks, I’ll check it out,” and lose it five minutes later.

But he went on and on about how he thought sharing music was a beautiful thing… a way to get inside someone’s head. He kissed my hand a dozen times to tell me how thankful he was… he even bought me a drink or two or something like that.

We started getting into it about music… he remembered my favorite Bjork song… something I uttered briefly weeks ago… he played Love Song, The Cure and reminded me how he loved the story I told him about Robert Smith and his wife.

My friend, Tall K, kept looking at me like, “oh girl, he remembers everything you ever told him… hmm… interesting.”

I was surprised too… very surprised.

Our banter started getting a bit heated… and we somehow decided kisses on the cheek were in order… Well, he asked me to kiss him on the cheek… I told him to kiss me on my cheek instead.

And for some stupid reason, I decided to turn my face, so he would hit my lips instead… I did it jokingly… he stopped… I laughed. Our lips did not touch.

2 minutes later he said, “kiss me on the cheek.”

I said, “no”

“C’mon!”

“No… okay fine, you have to bring your cheek to me.”

I leaned in to kiss him, and this time he turned to kiss me on the lips. We both paused… he moved in closer… grabbed my bottom lip with his teeth and softly tugged… our lips met… our tongues met… and in a swift second it was over.

And that was that… a sweet Monday night smooch… we didn’t really talk after that… his shift ended, and I left.

Of course, I wish I hadn’t had gross beer breath… but oh well… who cares.

He’s the biggest flirt I’ve pretty much ever met, but I had fun for a moment… and he was sweet, for a moment.

Something on the Horizon... I Just Don't Know What It Is... Yet.

I've become this annoying, "Hey Miss Curious what are you doing tonight?"

"I'm going to a show."

Yes, I go to a fair amount of shows... and yes, I can hear in peoples' voices the, "whatever, another show."

And why... why do I keep going? I realized on Friday night that seeing live music is one of the only times I feel truly happy (i've said this before)... I'm not thinking about world hunger or the lack of sex or the lack of meaning or hating 40 hour work weeks... it's the only time where I'm living, truly living, living in the moment... where all my senses are heightened... I feel the high of alcohol and weed... I give myself up to the music... I'm fascinated with the men and women on stage and the men and women in the crowd... there are so many levels of enjoyment... feeling a sense of comraderie with the strangers with whom you're sharing this experience... you feel some hot arousal from the some male singer or guitarist... the one your eyes are fixated upon.

Uh. True escapism.

And sure be annoyed that I'm off to some other show... but it's the only place I feel full. Complete happiness.

I always need it. I need it right now. I need to feel something other than this apathy... the useless drag of another day... staring at that same tree 5 cubicles away through half-open blinds... day after day after day. Wondering, if this is as good as it gets. Wondering if there's something more. Wondering how I'm going to find my way out of this rut. Shows aren't enough, but they're a start.

What is next? There's something next. Not grad school yet. But there's something. What? Fuck.

Weekend:

Saturday loft party... chuckled a bit as I walked by 5th Paragraph's dark window. Part of me wanted to email him today and say, "I walked by your window." How fucking stupid is that? Don't worry, I'm not going to do it. Guess I had a moment where I wanted to talk to a boy. But silly me, not a boy that dissed my ass. Fuck him. ;-) Guess that means I genuinely have ZERO prospects. It's always fun to think about some random boy... but this is nice too... very nice... contrl

I went home, soaked from the rain... and 40 dollars in cab rides later... I was met by my roomie, BFF, and a friend of hers... we smoked, and he played DJ... we laughed... I was happy then too. Thanks BFF.



And so I sit here... still thinking... what next?

Tired From the Weekend Before the Weekend

This weekend is in classic Curious style... pretty busy.

Tonight Chicajato and I are off to Great American Music Hall to see a band... The Nice Guy is actually going with us. He really is NICE, but seriously, there's just no way... It is kinda' a "too bad," 'cuz he's just so NICE.

Anyway, tomorrow I'm streaking my hair w/ bright red streaks (against my jet black current color)... and then I'm off to some crazy loft party with some crazy LA DJ... a friend of mine's throwing it... she bought 4 outfits for the damn thing. Kinda' sweet. She's clearly stoked.

That's the loft next to 5th Paragraph's loft. She said she invited all her neighbors, but it is highly UNLIKELY that he'd show... he's probably off at some snowy mountain. In the end though, it doesn't really make a difference. He'd be there. We'd say hi. End of story. I'll let you know on Monday.


SOMEONE ELSE'S ROMANCE:

Hopefully my friend (who's name will remain anonymous) won't mind that I'm sharing this sweet little line - SORRY IN ADVANCE, C'MON I'M IMPOSSIBLE TO HATE, HAHAHA!... Anyway, she's going through a tricky boy situation. To end or Not to end. There's much affection still in their undefined relationship.

And just the other day, they stood on the street corner. She rubbed her arms in hopes to warm herself up... he notices... pulls her into his warm hooded-sweatshirt arms and whispers in her ear, "please don't make me miss you."

I just thought that was an un-fucking-believeable line... I think someone should write that into their fucking film already... how totally sweet... how totally bitersweet, really. :-(

A Quest For Inspiration.

Uninspired. Feeling rather forlorn for no particular reason.

I’ve been going out just as much… live shows, just as much… drinking, just as much… toking, not as much… and now I’m living in complete apathy.

Of course the Pete Yorn itty-bitty moment of up close hotness was nice… but fleeting… and then, Friday night I went to a photography exhibition and oddly stayed out until almost 3 am.

Miss Curious and Giving Out Her Telephone Number:

I have a hard time saying no if someone asks for my phone number. I don’t want to hurt his or her feelings. Of course, in the long run, it’s worse because you give the person false hope. This sounds a bit, well, awful of me, but I just get caught off guard.

Friday night, this crazy cab driver, roughly my age, asked for my number. I was stunned. We’d just gone at it about racial diversity and economic status amongst the major U.S. cities. It was 2:30-3ish AM… I was rather tipsy.

Feeling pissed at this cab driver, who should have known better, I was completely taken aback when he asked for my number. I gave it to him. BIG MISTAKE!!!

A half hour later, um 3:30 am, he calls, “I just wanted to make sure you gave me the right number. What are you doing right now?”

“Sleeping. Good-Bye.”

One morning later, Sunday, the sound of my phone buzzing against my new old nightstand woke me up. 8 am. It was him. I didn’t answer. 8:30 am as I was falling back to sleep. Another buzz. It was him. 9 am. It was him. I still didn’t answer.

I put the fucking phone on silent.

2 hours later I wake-up. I decided I had to end this… so I text, “I was too drunk the other night to mention that I have a boyfriend… and it’s serious. Sorry.” I don’t typically lie, but this crazy warranted it fully.

That fucking asshole had the gall to text back, “You must be confusing me with someone who’s… interested.”

Whatever you stupid motherfucker… fuck you… you’re crazy… who calls in half-hour intervals starting at 8 am on a Sunday fucking morning… who the fuck does that?!?!?!??!?!

I wanted to text back a gazillion scathing remarks… but of course, he knows where I live and clearly, he’s NUTS!!! I left it at that and remained pissed.

This is actually the 3rd of its kind in the last 3 months. One of the prior 2 was from a girl. A girl I met in the bathroom at a bar. We chatted about music. A nice chat. She finds me at the bar later… asks me for my phone and calls her number (I always fall for that one!). I get a text the next day, “nice meeting you.” Later that day, another text… the next day, another text. I text back, “I’m going out of town for the holidays. I’ll give you a shout when I get back.”(that was truth, I was going out of town for Christmas) Before I get back, she texts again. Then she leaves a message, “girl where are you?” That was just too many calls. I never called back. The texts finally stopped.

A couple of weeks ago, I was at this DVD release party. Some guy with a Flock of Seagulls haircut approached me. Bought me a drink. We chatted for a minute. I’m nice. My phone’s on the bar. He takes it. Calls his number. I couldn’t react because I was choking on his excessive cologne. Please note to all men out there, moderation… learn to apply cologne moderately. Please.

He called a few days later. Kept talking about all the drugs he was on that DVD night… said I was the best part. And, kept talking. Friendly enough, but no. I never called back.

Anyway, psycho cab driver freaked me the fuck out, so I’m using this blog as evidence when I’m shot dead in front of my apartment building.

Hahaha!

To Conclude:

I will try to write more consistently again. I will look for inspiration… somewhere. Yes, need inspiration… a little scared that I won’t find it. Scared, indeed.

A Little Star Struck

I always have some CD that reminds me of some point in my life… like Ben Harper, Fight For Your Mind in Peace Corps Ukraine or Smashing Pumpkins, Siamese Dream for 'those I can’t wait for high school to be over' moments or Tori Amos’ Boys For Pele when I was going through that crazy break-up with Bad Break-Up… anyway, Pete Yorn’s Musicforthemorningafter was my life in Los Angeles CD.

Yes, it reminds me of a very strange time in my life… trying to define myself outside of being a student… all that silly shit.

At a bar across the street from the Beverly Center, I remember seeing Pete Yorn talking on his phone. He appeared to be waiting for someone. I remember tapping my friend’s leg under the table saying, “that’s totally Pete Yorn.”

Why is all of this relevant? Well, last night I went to see Pete at the Fillmore. I’d seen him at Great American before and had been blown away by his live performance. He’s a brilliant musician.

My friend picked me up for the show, and naturally I was already drunk and high. I like to save myself some cash-money on expensive venue drinks, so I go prepared, hahaha. Because my friend was laughing a little too hard at my dumb comments, I was convinced she’d had some drinks.

We parked a little ways away from the venue and as we walked there, I decided to give her my latest sobriety test. This test entails questions of history and current politics.

As I was spouting off the trivia question, someone behind us chimed in and answered one. I turned to say, “excellent job,” to his correct answer. I then spouted off another to see if he could get that one too… and who oh who is standing beside him!?!?!? Pete Yorn. Oh my God. Who is soooooo fucking HOT in person. I’d of course seen him onstage, but I’m usually far away and drunk and high.

We proceeded to walk along the sidewalk toward the venue. It seemed rather natural… like there we were just chatting… no introductions, just hopped right into trivia conversation. Pete Yorn answered my questions with musician names, and I probably made some silly quip or two.

We waited at a stop light, and what my friend pointed out to me later was that it had been green for some time… and the four of us just stood there while everyone else crossed the street. They didn’t seem to think we knew who they were. I eventually said nonchalantly, “oh hey, we’re on our way to see your show.” They seemed surprised… they seemed to think we were just two girls walking on the street going who knows where.

Finally we arrived at the venue. Pete and his friend got into the tour bus, and we said our good-byes. We turned to go into The Fillmore and apparently the ticket folks had observed our casual conversation and remarked, “oh my god you totally know him?” We kinda’ chuckled and walked-in.

The show was fucking bad-ass. He’d put out a live album a while back, and I think musicians who do so are confident of their skills. He should be confident… he’s a true musician… not just a lyricist or pretty face, but a pretty fucking spot-on guitarist.

Today I’m of course going through the list of all the things I should have said… I’m also wishing I hadn’t worn my shitty t-shirt and jeans from work… I remember thinking to myself earlier that day, “uh, why bother getting dressed in anything cute… I’m going to see live music… not to impress a soul.”

But anyway, it really doesn’t matter what I wore or what I said… it was just a sweet little run in with someone whose music has been important in my life.


And here is a pic of Mr. Pete Yorn himself... HOT!

Valentine's Day

The truth about now, really is the truth about now (previous post)... people keep commenting on how they want a Valentine's date... or how again this year they don't have a Valentine's date... every time someone mentions it, I genuinely think, "wait, when's Valentines'? Is it soon?"

And then, twice now, I've been at a store thinking, "what the fuck... are they still trying to get rid of their Christmas shit?" Meaning - stores are actually selling RED items because of Valentine's Day... not RED Christmas items. I did this twice now... apparently my memory swiftly forgot that I'd thought Christmas before Valentine's again.

Perhaps it's not because I have NO boyz on the mind... but perhaps time has just passed so quickly that it's hard to switch gears from the holidazzzzze to well, now. February. February already.

Weird. In high school time seemed to go so slowly... vacation couldn't come fast enough... college couldn't come fast enough... now time is passing me by. I guess I need to slow down... but then, if I slow down, am I wasting time?

Whatever.

Hahaha.

MY NEW OLD HOME:

Anyway, new roommie, BFF, officially has all her stuff in our home, yeay! And let me tell you, if ever one could lead an exciting vicarious life, it's me... it's me now.

BFF's in the thick of it... and I sit back and give advice... my eyes are red from being wide-eyed as she relays all her wild stories... wild stories that play like daytime television, soap operas. Whew! People often say, "those things only happen to Miss Curious," well, I ain't got nothing on BFF... Of course BFF if you're reading this, I know it's not all the time, but it's certainly exciting for now. Stay Strong!!!


EXCITED ABOUT:

- My new Tapes N' Tapes CD
- Okkervil River, still totally into them
- Monday lunches with LaSassy
- My new set of dice and dice shaker (?) for Monday night dice games w/ the boys (totally nerdy... they got me hooked though!)

The Truth About Now

Let’s wrap up the love-talk here… upon learning that one of my favorite couples was getting a divorce, I was obviously hit very hard. Despite the intensity of my last two posts, I actually don’t think about having a significant other very often these days. Those posts were more about – shit, does true love exist at all? And how disheartening if it doesn’t because I want to, and I sorta’ do, believe in it. If there isn’t such a thing, at the end of my life, I would be very disappointed.

The here and now… I really couldn’t be bothered with a boyfriend. Frankly, I just don’t feel like putting in any effort whatsoever. Selfish. I’m quite content with how things are going, and the thought of waiting by the phone for some dude to call isn’t very appealing… and I really mean this. This is the truth about right now.

Time to move on.

Last night was my first night with the new roommie, BFF (best friend forever). BFF, BFF’s ex-BF (boyfriend), and I all decided to celebrate the new home. We got high, drank whiskey and cheap wine, and came up with a solid new philosophy on life (yes, profound stoned conversations):

“Let the good times roll…”