I'm exceptionally artistic!

Find your soul type at kelly.moranweb.com.


Right, like this is totally surprising.

'Cos No One Listens To Techno

OK, the title isn't apropos of anything. My buddy just bought the new Eminem album and he blasted "Without Me" in his Corvette from Westwood to Santa Monica.

Anyway, sheesh, yes I've been lax on the blog of late, but I've gone out two nights in a row, taking a breather tonight because tomorrow I head down to OC for more socializing.

Sooooooooo, there's part of me that's happy I had a decent date on Wednesday night (drinks and dinner down in Santa Monica--she laughed at almost everything I said, no smoochie boochie but I did get her cell number), and there's part of me that feels a bit like a putz for being happy I had a decent date. The mass of men lead lives with plenty o' decent dates so decent dates are no biggie, probably about as fulfilling as finding a dime on the street. Thus, me feeling rather good about one single date makes me feel like the Corky of dating. "I tog doo a gul, yay!" (I know, I'm going to hell for that comment, but at least all my friends will be there.)

Last night, I caught the sneak preview of The Bourne Identity (man it's good to be back in Westwood) with a buddy of mine. Afterwards, we met up with another pal at Maloney's--better than average college sports bar. The twenty-two-year old sweetie of a brunette server commented that I looked younger than thirty, and not in an "I better get more than a buck a drink tip" kiss ass of a way. My pals and I got in a rather serious short (and very atypical of L.A.) conversation with her about what it was like turning thirty and relationships when you hit thirty. She was worried about not being married by the time she was thirty (no chance of that happening, not with those looks and that personality). Then we headed over to Santa Monica to meet some more pals. I paid $10 to enter into a bar that, although had women which is light years ahead of Silicon Valley bars, was heavily weighted toward men. We blew that pop stand. Unfortunately, having not gone out a whole lot up north, I was till building up my party legs. I cut out early from the Circle Bar, which was too bad because two attractive women (more Gap wholesome college quality as opposed to Girls Gone Wild skank on one end or Victoria Secrets gloss quality on the other) were all over each other on the dance floor. I just was flat out beat.

So, more fun and excitement in the past two nights than a whole month in Silicon Valley. I'm bushed.

Feng Shui: The Movie

How's this for a weird dream: I was nominated to be a feng shui master, but if I accepted, I would have to stay in the feng shui palace for the rest of my life. The palace was at the edge of a lake surrounded by tall, jagged mountains. The guide gave me a tour of the palace, which was done in a contemporary Frank Lloyd Wright style with lots of meeting and meditation rooms. I thought it wouldn't be too bad living here. Then the guide gave me a tour of the surrounding area to remind me what I'd miss if I accepted the position. We travelled via motorboat along the lake, then onto the river rapids that flowed into the lake. I was struck by how high and how beautiful the mountains were.

Golden Lights

In the last two weeks I've been in Lalaland, I've gone out and/or hung out with friends more than I did in a month period up in Silicon Valley. I've talked to two additional legal recruiting services. I've had one dream totally collapse but another one potentially begin. Shoot, I've kinda been a busy little bugger, haven't I?

Anyway, I don't really have much to write today, but I figure I need to blog to keep in shape. I've been rather (and by "rather," I mean abso-fucking-lutely) lax about writing. Shame on me! Here goes another random stream of conscience sequence of text.

More evidence that the universe is conspiring to remind me how much of a chork (Chinese Dork) I am: Back as a first year law student, I had a huge friggin' crush on a woman in my section--petite and slender, black hair and huge anime eyes. Not a smart thing, having a crush on someone in your section of only 20 students, but of course these things aren't guided by intellect. There was much awkwardness which eventually blew over. So, my pal tells me he's temping at the firm 1L Crush is working at (stupid dangling participle). Oh yeah, 1L Crush is a friend of Mutual L.A. Chick friend. And my pal plans on asking 1L Crush if she knows L.A. Chick (1L Crush used to work at L.A. Chick's firm).

More evidence that maybe I'm not the unluckiest guy in the world: So to say the legal market is tough these days is just like saying the Battle of the Somme was a minor skirmish. Getting all these rejections is tough on the ego. But there are hundreds of lawyers looking for a job--and they don't have an excuse of writing a novel nor do they have some nice stash to keep them going for a year and a half.

More evidence that I'm friggin' nuts: Last night's dream included a huge earthquake, a cross country trip with my parents, a graphic prison riot, and the girl I love falling for another guy.

You're ENVY! You want everything that everyone else has. Nothing's good enough for you, and sometimes even YOU aren't good enough. You're represented by the color green.

Hallelujah

So I buy my favorite brand of scotch, Oban, because hell, I might as well do something that makes me happy. I read on one of my favorite blogs that the blogger is headed to Oban General Hospital to visit the sick and unwell while I'm sipping my scotch. I was listening to Jeff Buckley's Grace earlier this afternoon, and Jeff Buckley's cover of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" plays on the background of C.J.'s bodyguard getting shot to death on West Wing. More noise.

You Just Haven't Earned It Yet Baby

...Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand Scenario 4 is the winner!!! Well that was quick and painful. "Um, I'm not sure if this is supposed to be a romantic thing, but I have a boyfriend." "Oh, well I'll let you get back to work then." Hey, at least there were no awkward pauses (and it was via the phone, local call, no toll charges).

I'm reminded of one of Homer Simpson's more inspired outbursts--"Why must everything I do end in failure!"

Replicant

I received an invoice from Sprint PCS for cell phone service addressed to my old digs. So here's the thing--I don't own a cell phone. Dun dun dah!!! And Sprint PCS's service line is a Catch-22. In order to talk to a customer service representative, you have to enter that last 4 digits of your social security number. And lo and behold, the dude who set up service under my name didn't use my social (which I certainly a blessing in the larger scheme of things). So I had to go through 5 rounds of "Please enter the last four digits of your social security number--that is an invalid number" before I was finally shunted off to an actual person. The representative was actually a friendly guy and typed in a fraud report ("You need to call back seven to ten business days"), but then he said "Thank you for using Sprint PCS." I know it's simply a knee-jerk reaction on his part, but I nearly said, "Dude, but I don't use Sprint PCS."

Shudder

One item did get messed up during the move--my computer monitor. There are ghostly horizontal flickerings that move from the top of the monitor to the bottom. They're the type of flickerings that would seem pregnant with sinister meaning to schizophrenics and conspiracy theorists.

Rez/Cowgirl

OK, so I've been busy unpacking boxes--that's my excuse for not blogging in the last 3 days and I'm sticking with it.

So I did call L.A. Chick on Wednesday, and either 1) a scenario I didn't envision occurred or 2) a version of scenario 1 occurred. Kinda too early to tell right now. Since I didn't have her home number, I gave her a call at her office during the late afternoon. She didn't remember who the hell I was--I felt like I was living a song by the Smiths. Anyhow, I reminded her where we met, told her I was living in L.A. and wondering if she wanted to get together sometime. She said sure, but she had a friend coming into town so this weekend was no good. There was no pause or hesitation so I don't think it was a lie (that pesky pessimistic part of me though thinks maybe that's her standard blow off line). This is where my recollection gets fuzzy (stupid influx of adrenalin)--I can't remember if she told me to call later or if I said I would. In any event, I asked if I could get her home number (I didn't want to bother her at work again, but I forgot to mention that's why I wanted it) and she said to try her at work because in all likelihood that's where she'd be. So, that's what I meant about either a scenario I didn't envision occurred (she has a friend coming into town) or a version of scenario 1 occurred ("Um, I have plans"). And once again suggestions from friends are all around the map--from "Don't call her again 'cuz she's definitely not interested" to "Give her a call next week--there's still hope yet."

In the meantime, I'm also in limbo with match.com chick since it doesn't look like our schedules mesh until after Memorial Day weekend--even more waiting. At some point, I have to be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. That pesky whiney "My luck sucks/I'm a victim" part of me starts thinking "Why can't anything good happen to me?" at this point (I get that from Mama Stark, thanks mom!). Anyway, I know that good things have happened, like selling my condo for mucho profit and having the opportunity to continue writing. I'm back down in L.A. where women exist, and if match.com chick is indicative of L.A. women, more approachable (bucking the stereotype). I now have a krewe to go out with on Thursday nights.

Since I hung out Wednesday night and went out Thursday night and spent Friday night unpacking the rest of the boxes, I think I'll just chill and nerd out tonight all by my lonesome. Some things change, some things remain the same.

Some Kittens Can Fly!

God, I always dreaded turning into one of those bloggers who sit there and talk about how Mitzy the Cat did something adorable, what a ragamuffin. Bleah! Karma is a funny thing I guess. So my cat is not the brightest of animals. I was typing away about an hour ago, and I saw my cat jump onto the loft ledge. She went back and forth and back and forth in the slinky feline way. "Well," I thought, "she can't be stupid enough to jump down the twenty or so feet." A minute later, she faced the part of the ledge overlooking the living room, put her two front paws against the side of the ledge, and jumped. I heard a thud, then a meow, then a hiss. Cripes. She was healthy enough for her to hobble up the stairs back to me. I decided to take her to an emergency animal clinic anyways, shelled out $195 for emergency consulting and x-rays. Turns out she's fine except for an accelerated heart rate and some tartar on her back teeth. 1) I'm amazed she didn't suffer any broken bones from that fall--nature at its finest. 2) I love my cat, but she certainly isn't a rocket scientist.

Torn

Conversation with Friend One Today:
"Your planning on giving her a call at work?"
"Well, yeah, I don't have her home phone number. So, it'd be kinda freaky if I called her at home."
"Hmmm, I don't know about giving her a call at the office."
"I know, I got pissed when people called me at work with personal shit, but it's not like I have a lot of options."
"Do whatever feels right to you then, I guess."

Conversation with Friend Two Today:
"Well, I'd wait a week."
"Why?"
"C'mon, you just moved down. That'd seem pushy. Maybe you should just e-mail her."
"No, I don't want to e-mail her. Look, I have an AOL account, she'd probably delete it."
"Well, you e-mailed her before. You think she deleted those e-mails?"
"I was 350 miles away at the time."
After the conversation, I thought, "Hey, how is L.A. Chick going to know I just moved here unless I tell her?"

Conversation with Friend Three Several Weeks Ago:
"No, see, I think that was a trick."
"Whuday mean?"
"She just moved down here. She was looking to meet new people, not start a relationship."

"Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste death but once." William Shakespeare. I guess put up or shut up time is coming soon.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

OK, so I've been a wee remiss on the whole scenario project, but hey, I've been getting ready to move/been moving, so phhht on you! I will post up some more scenarios 1) once my furniture arrives and 2) if it doesn't become moot. I'm in the new digs right now, split level with the bedroom as a loft. Very artsy fartsy. Since I'm without lamps in the bedroom, I'm writing this in the dark on the second level listening to Zero 7. Ahhhhhh.

I might as well get this bit of negativity out of the way--F GTE/Verizon! There are three phone jacks, two on the first level (with the lights) and one on the second. The tenant before me decided to have two phone lines. The wiseguys at GTE assigned my number to--you guessed it--the phone jack on the top floor sans lights. I have to pay GTE $85 to switch the two first floor phone jacks, and, oh yeah, they can't give me a time certain for when it's going to be done.

But even with that bit of hassle, I do like the new digs. While I was laying on the first floor, I realized that with the whole tall ceiling effect the kitchen is heavily reminiscent of Michael Whelan's painting The Red Step. How cool is that? So I'm kinda excited about getting everything settled and moving forward.

If The Devil Six Then God Is Seven

Scenario 7:

I arrive to the new pad on Tuesday afternoon. After getting my keys and letting my cat out of the carrier, I give a couple of friends a call to let them know I'm finally in L.A. I'd rather not spend the evening in an apartment without furniture, so my pals and I decided to meet down in Westwood for a couple of drinks. Mutual friend of L.A. Chick and me shows up. I've already decided not to ask mutual friend about L.A. Chick--I acted as go-between for a couple back in high school and boy was that annoying. My plan is to give L.A. Chick a call when my stuff finally arrives and I'm somewhat settled. But L.A. chick makes that all moot.

When L.A. Chick walks in, she seems genuinely happy to see me. The smile, the touching, the talking about Sheryl Crow's latest album, and suddenly I don't mind the four months that have passed. But as everyone is about to leave the bar, L.A. Chick becomes morose. I ask L.A. Chick if I can give her a call some time, and she tells me she's too busy for a relationship--work is taking up too much of her time, and she just can't devote any effort to dating at this time.

I'll return to an apartment that's empty save for my cat and me, feeling tired and unhappy.

Six Feet Under

Scenario 6:
I arrive to the new pad on Tuesday afternoon. After getting my keys and letting my cat out of the carrier, I give a couple of friends a call to let them know I'm finally in L.A. I'd rather not spend the evening in an apartment without furniture, so my pals and I decided to meet down in Westwood for a couple of drinks. Mutual friend of L.A. Chick and me shows up. I've already decided not to ask mutual friend about L.A. Chick--I acted as go-between for a couple back in high school and boy was that annoying. My plan is to give L.A. Chick a call when my stuff finally arrives and I'm somewhat settled. Unfortunately, mutual friend makes that all moot.

L.A. Chick also shows up, gives mutual friend a kiss, and they hold hands. I guess mutual friend is no longer just a friend of L.A. Chick. I head to the bar and order three shots of J.D. and down those suckers in less than 10 seconds. I say hi and make nice with mutual friend and L.A. Chick. I make some small talk with L.A. Chick about the new Sheryl Crow album and Liz Phair's backup vocals for "Soak Up The Sun." I do a decent job of not seeming uncomfortable (at least I hope I do). Mutual friend talks to me later in the night, sort of apologizing about being with L.A. Chick, but it has been four months after all. I act all affable and pull a Clark Kent on Smallville.

But, I'll return to an apartment that's empty save for my cat and me, feeling somewhat betrayed.