3.05.2006

crisp

I spent Saturday maxin' n' chillaxin' in Chinatown with my brother. Goddamn, those motherfuckers are out of control with the party snaps. Shit's funny when you're 10, not 27. "5 boxes for a $1," bro said (or is it 6 boxes?). It's cool, but I was saving up for cigs. Anyway, my brother worked my ass like a dog, walking all over Chinatown looking for some goddamned mug he saw in some dingy-ass shop months ago. Surprisingly, he didn't find the mug. And man it was colder than shit outside! When did LA turn into Portland for crissake? (It's supposed to rain most of the week, which means everything is going to flood and we're all going to die.)

Anyway, it was cool. MILFs were out in full force. But you know what sucks? Even though I was amongst all of these hot women I couldn't stop thinking about Rachel. She's never been to LA and I wanted to show her around the city. Even after we broke up she wanted to come to California to visit me and so I got into the habit of thinking of all the places I'd take her to. I just wished I was there with her and not my brother, which made me feel like shit. But I'm sure he probably would've rather been with whoever his latest crush is than with his little bro. I hate that I can't get over her. I hate that I listen to Aaliyah's "At Your Best" for hours on end and cry my eyes out. I know it's pathetic! I mean, my feelings for her haven't changed at all. I lived with Lucy for two-and-a-half years and I was over her in like a month. (She met, and moved in, with a guy who is now her husband about 4 minutes after we broke up. I guess neither of us really meant that much to each other.) I mean, when a relationship ends, I move on. I don't pine for the other person, no matter what happened. But I think about Rachel every day. I guess it's because I have no idea what happened to us. Everything was amazing and then, literally, over night she says she can't be in a relationship with anyone. I had just moved in with her and then she says that to me. And it wasn't like I moved to a different part of the city or whatever—I moved across the motherfucking country. Clearly, that's a lot of pressure to put on a relationship, but honestly, she was the one who asked me to move in with her. If it had been a situation where I kept nagging her about living together, then I could definitely understand why she would feel pressured and uncertain about living with me.

You know what fucks with my head, though? About two weeks after I came back to California we were talking on the phone and her roommate was in the process of moving out of their apartment. I guess her roommate felt weird about a guy living with them and told Rachel about it, but didn't try to make it a big deal (even though the roommate knew that I was moving in about a month before I left Portland and told Rachel she was cool with it). Anyway, Rachel says that if the roommate had moved out before or during the time I was there, things would've turned out differently. But is that the only reason why she wanted me to leave? Who was the asshole who said "don't sweat the small stuff"? The small stuff will kill you.

On a funnier note (because all of that heartbreak/"what if?" stuff is fucking hilarious, but not as funny as what I'm about to lay down on your ass), brother and I went to see Chappelle's Block party at the Huntington Beach Mall. Goddamn, that shit was crisp. Chappelle was in prime form and the music was out of control. My only complaint is that there wasn't enough footage of the show. I wanted to see more footage of Jill Scott and Erykah Badu, but maybe there'll be some more shit on the DVD. And why no footage of Erykah backstage? I mean, there were little clips, but nothing substantial. Goddamn, that woman is hot. I'm convinced Dead Prez played "Turn Off the Radio" for Kanye. At least I hope they did. Fucking Kanye.

Random joke from the movie:

"How many white people does it take to screw in a lightbulb? None. Cuz they'll get a nigger to do it for them."

Random picture of a zeppelin in ascension on the way down to HB via the 405, which I dubbed the flying roach:



Random picture of my shoes: