Hello Life. I miss my blog…I miss editing pictures & video…

Life has gotten so incredibly busy for me with the new job, the move, and everything else that I’ve bitten into.  I love the challenge, but wish I had more time to my art too.  Its really a tough line to balance.  I know that things will get better.  At least I keep telling myself that.  A new energy center can’t just happen overnight.  We’ve already come a long way.  So I’m trying to hold on.  I’m putting my projects on hold.  I’m freezing production on any projects that are dragging.  I just don’t have time to dick around with people that aren’t on the ball.  Life just feels too fleeting for that.  Perhaps if I were unemployed & independently wealthy, I would.

I’ve been sidetracked lately, trying to juggle too many projects.  I get so bogged down with people’s lack of motivations.  Talk gets us nowhere.  So I shall stop & get on with my day of projects.  They ain’t gonna make themselves.  And they ain’t gonna happen overnight.

P.S. CopyCatFilms acquired an exciting new piece of production equipment last night at the Apple Store: a Wacom Intuos4 Drawing Tablet. I could burst about it!

…when you’re hunched over the sink, doing the neti pot rituals and spot a tiny logo on the back of your au naturale face lotion and think: “–that’s weird, I just saw that somewhere, where was it…I know it was weird–OH it was a TATTOO on one of those lesbians in that made-for-lesbian porn (Crash Pad Series), but what does it mean!? –ohhh of course!! it means “not tested on animals”…”

and then the whole lesbianism of the entire situation just really made me laugh at myself.  Hilarious…
Now I should get back to my knitting & petting the cat…

–But first, I gotta say that the new wave of hipster lesbian porn brings out all sorts of feelings for me:

1. lesbians never liked porn & hated me for enjoying its cinematic values. Frankly I’m a little peeved that its okay…”now.”
2. why is everyone a hipster & the girls are…well GIRLS in them too as they are in da-straighty porn?  I’m a full blown lesbian and I like regular porn too, but even *I* don’t want to see girls gettin it on that look like they’re still in high school!!!  Lets get it straight that you can be a total classifiable CREEP–without being a pedophile or weirdo!  Keep it to the women please.
3. why…oh why would it be so trite?? A lesbian porn about…making a lesbian porn! No you didn’t. Your lighting is pretty decent for indie (and it can’t be easy to light a strap-on in tough to reach spots), so why the hell couldn’t you get someone to help write a story line–(if you MUST have one–for the “feminine sensibilities”…”women need a story”…blah blah BLAH)!  All I can say is that its really tragic to film about filming–in most cases.*
4. I’m obviously extremely jealous that I don’t know a bunch of hot lesbians that are willing to make porn & I could have some jealous lesbian filmmaker sitting and bitching about ME & my films instead! Of course!  And knowing me, I’d probably want to show off my collection of DV tapes and fancy camera equipment too.  So maybe I’d end up making precisely this kind of porn about making porn too.
…and 5. I will probably buy the next in the series anyway!

perhaps the moral of the story is that we need a new logo:  NOT TESTED ON ALL LESBIANS.

…when confused dykes marry dudes that cook.

My biggest peeve…of all time.

The age old phenomena: confused dykey girl that likes sports and spending time with other chics (especially pretty ones with sharp mouths that smell good) meets a super duper cute guy that’s sensitive, doesn’t expect too much and acts like one of her girlfriends…loves to shop, be catty, and even cooks! Wow, she thinks…I better nail him!  And then of course they get married, move to a suburb of–well anywhere–but Nashville seemed to be a mecca for these crazy people.  They live there in HUGE cul-de-sac villages of fake straight people, in big empty houses…

Sorry girls, but you’re just a little lesbian, lookin’ for a sharp lipped dyke like me, not like him.  Because unless you’re planning to screw him with a strap on, eventually he’s gonna outgrow you.  If you are, then more power to ya (be sure to buy your equipment where lesbians do)…join the queer movement because you’re both queer, even if straight.  Because it is my claim that if we lived in a world of real freedom without the political, social conventions, and taboo surrounding sex–that both of you would be with your same sex, lappin it up! Yeah, uh huh!  But I applaud you for finding a way to make it work, a way to make your mothers proud.  “Bend Over Boyfriend” is not a vintage classic without reason.  But at least butch it up and quit playin games.  Admit that you’re the top and that he’s a little bitch that takes it like a whore!

I’ve loved a lot of men in my life–almost all of them complete, OUT, fags.  I’ve lived with them and played house.  I loved every minute of it!  We shopped!  We played games, did crafts, we watched porn and had parties…but we did NOT have sex. (I mean, unless you count that one night but that was just because the gay dude was caught between me and another girl-he left before anything happened.)  But my point is that I could actually have seen myself doing the same thing.  Doing what these girls do! Marrying a guy that is my FRIEND because I love his company, but not because he would ever “want” me, nevermind the fact that I wouldn’t want him…and that’s the difference.  I don’t think that marriage is based on sex, but it is certainly a common denominator!  And men WANT sex…even if not from you.  They will find what they want. Eventually.

So if you’re sitting up in your coach, high above the world of gays not being able to marry (still paying the GAY TAX) and you’re looking down from your fake marriage that seems perfect–except for the lack of passion or crazy sex.  The kind of sex where you feel like your head will just fucking explode and you have to wear long sleeves to hide the evidence…never fear…your time is coming…but not with the sensitive dude that “just likes to fall asleep on the couch.”  Keep spending more time with your lady friends. Take up a contact sport with them.  Be weird in the locker room.  You’ll hit 35 and claw at every pretty young girl you see…

Mark my words.

P.S. Fuck you Massachusetts. Fuck you with 10 inches of pure surgery grade silicone & artisan handmade leather straps!

Its clear to me that…
A. I shouldn’t watch so many movies/episodes and
B. I shouldn’t watch shows about Polygamy!

With the new Xmas wall of television, its hard not to wanna just stare at it!  But I’ll be delving deeper into the world of racing cars & running over hookers during the holiday break (new GTA game & new PS3!) to break things up.  I can’t concentrate on that right now. I’m trying to do A LOT these days.  And frankly, I’m very scared with what those elements (killin’ hookers & racing sports cars) would do to my already demented dreams!

We’ve been on a big jag of LOST.  I never watched the show at all because I don’t do 2/3 of a show with 1/3 of commercials.  I wait for it to come out on DVD.  I can’t stand the thought of giving that much of my life to crap head ad men.  Sorry.  Not happenin’.  I haven’t watched television since Nashville.  At ALL.   I’ve accomplished more towards my goals, and gained more skills than ever before.  But I digress.

I started watching LOST because there’s TONS of them all free to stream on Netflix PS3 streaming (its like giant YouTube sometimes with our internet connection, but who cares, none of them are really hot so it doesn’t matter that you can’t see their face because its a giant pixelated blob).  I’ve also been watching Big Love on DVD and have almost started to convince myself that I could handle two or three wives.  Maybe if I get an even better job, I could handle THREE!  But I would not buy them all separate houses–no way.

I don’t know, there’s something really intriguing about Big Love — its not that great, none of the wives are even that hot.  I mean Cloe Soveigny is, but not dressed like a mormon!  Thankfully she isn’t wearing anything for the sex scenes.  But the thing that really makes me laugh is how homely & godly they are…sayin’ “shoot and gosh darnit!”…yet having sex with everyone, all over the place.  And the one guy’s wives are bi & elude to having sex with each other!  Hilarious.  And honestly, a side of polygamy that I never thought of.

But I think that I rewrote both of these shows last night in my dream and with a lot more excitement:

I was stranded alright.  But instead of a plane wreck on a deserted island, it was a relationship wreck in the middle of a polygamist compound.  Some guy had been assigned my “wife”.  I guess they don’t allow lesbians to have multiple wives.  This horrible guy just laid claim to my woman.  I was supposed to accept it.  I even had to be in the same room with it.  I was left with the hilariously crazy mother from Big Love.  It was horrible.  I guess it was like a total nightmare to teach me that polygamy doesn’t work for lesbians…at least not on a mormon-like polygamist compound anyway.  But then, there’s no reason why I couldn’t start my own lesbian compound…why, maybe they would all end up calling me “the prophet!”

Anyway, they ended up taking our houses from us, cuz that’s what they do on these compounds apparently.  The “guys” father had just died so the mother started immediately selling off his stuff.  She wanted to sell me something so she drug us back through this big warehouse and in the back was a vintage Toyota RAV-4.  I know, it doesn’t make any fucking sense.  They’ve only been around for 8 years! I had one from the first year!  But it was all cool & looked kinda VW bus like.  But it had this weird place on the outside for a cooler & I thought that was the greatest.  But even better–it had a great big huge radio with tuner dials OUTSIDE of the truck!  This thang was meant for outdoor lesbian compound parties!  A big cooler & radio outside of it!!  I was sold before I was even shown the entire set.  Yeah, it was a 3 parter!!  It also came with a matching cement roller & motorcycle!!  Bwahahaha!  The dyke in me was completely SOLD.  Take my wives…leave me with machinery & random equipment!

So I bought the set & we headed out.  The big huge guy on LOST was driving the cement roller back to the new compound.  Yep, we had all of our shacks MOVED!  We had 3 or 4 shacks moved onto a cement lot surrounded by giant chain link fencing in the middle of an apartment building that looked like the one Mariela & I lived in…in Phoenix.  Kind of a adobe shanty town motel with too much teal accent–where poor people actually live permanently instead of just one night.  (It was the craziest visual!  I wish I could paint it.  Perhaps I could recreate it in photoshop!)

Now we had 3 or 4 shacks there…placed perfectly on that lot of land–that, in real life, they told us was a tennis court that our apartment faced, when we signed the lease.  Then we “moved in” (from the backseat of the Jetta) and it was just a giant lot of rocks!  But you gotta admit, its a pretty good place to have a small lesbian compound of shacks…right in the middle of Phoenix proper…not far from Tempe, where we could go to enjoy the Transgender Scrabble Night every Thursday again.

I’m exhausted.

Its THE unwritten rule of fat bus riders everywhere:

Never, ever, intentionally choose a seat right next to a fat person, if there’s another seat open!

This is WHAT skinny people are for!  –Sitting next to on the bus!  We ALL know that!

So then why did I have it happen to me TWICE in the same day!!???  Both TO work and BACK–a big fat person squeezed in next to me while the skinny people along the other side sat and texted freely on their crackberries!!??!? But the way home really took the cake:

I was still going strong this season in just a down vest, refusing to switch to my coat because of the other unwritten law of the Chicago Winter: Girls that wear chains should NOT wear nice satin lined wool coats! So I’m waiting at the bus stop and the sky is–not really raining–not really snowing…just kind of puking slush all over the world.  So my shirt was getting a little damp & my arms extremely cold.  I boarded the bus and the very next stop a LARGE woman in a PLEATHER coat squished me against the glass of the bus.  Her pleather was soaking wet and my skin crawled every time it soaked a new spot on my shirt and I could feel the unnatural texture against my cold skin.  I wanted to just vomit on her.  And she made it worse by TEXTING the entire way.  Her arms hitting me constantly, I couldn’t even reach my ipod volume button to turn down the Dolly Parton that may have been so loud that everyone could hear that I was listening to Dolly Parton Xmas songs!  Then finally we got to MAIN and tons of people left.  Two entire rows of seats emptied in front of us…

But large Marge didn’t budge–at least her ass anyway.  She continued to text and not even pay any attention to the available seats.  I remained pinned to the wall of the bus–screaming from the inside…with my country xmas mix.

My acupuncturists laughs because when we talk about my horrible PMS–its always me bitching about people on the bus.  Its like our gauge.  She would like to find a way to surround me and protect me…perhaps by providing me with “Farrin’s Menstrual Bus” but I don’t see that happening anytime soon.  I think that’s what my car was for, a Jetta that’s RED & EAR BLEEDING LOUD: that pretty much sums up my PMS in a nice little VW nutshell.

But alas–I go this winter without her.

So PMS is not really something to laugh at.  Women have lost their entire litters of children over it.  I’ve lost some of my dearest friends. Luckily I have a few that hang on, tattered from the carnal wreckage of my wrath…they know that I love them, even when I’m a monster.  It makes me me & that’s something that I would certainly never change.  Hopefully the needles help.  They did in college!  I still have the piercings to show it!

On the other hand & speaking of Menstrual Bus! I got to the bus stop early this morning and hated myself as I stood there freezing thinking “God why didn’t I just wait a few more minutes in the apartment!” And then I had to run, punch & pound the side of the moving bus because it was leaving an old man shuffling along the ice with a walker.  Sometimes my PMS Wonder Woman senses can even do good!  I guess we are who we are!