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Wed 20 Jul 2011

Imaginary

Posted by PJ under friends, imagination, quote of the day
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Random quote of the day:

“I was the kid next doorâ€™s imaginary friend.”

â€”Emo Philips

Disclaimer:Â The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Siegfried and Roy, Leonard Maltin, or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

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Tue 28 Jun 2011

True

Posted by PJ under friends, quote of the day
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Random quote of the day:

“True friends are those who really know you but love you anyway.”

â€”Edna Buchanan, Suitable for Framing

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Tue 7 Jun 2011

Hugs

Posted by PJ under acceptance, friends, quote of the day
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Random quote of the day:

“We have to learn to be our own best friends because we fall too easily into the trap of being our own worst enemies.”

â€”Roderick Thorp, Rainbow Drive

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Wed 27 Apr 2011

Journey around my room: Pamela

Posted by PJ under 18th avenue, characters, friends, journey around my room, venice
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That’s the name of this pen and ink drawing, done by my friend, Francesca, back when she and my roommates-at-the-time shared a studio in Venice, California. It’s a fairly accurate portrait, in an abstract way. Back then, I had one of those long, very curly perms. I loved my hair like that, but it was such a commitment of salon time to keep it up because my hair is naturally fine and string straight (all except for one mutant wave at the back of my head). Also, those perms really damaged my hair. So I didn’t keep it for long and I have hardly any pictures of me like that. Certainly none that I’ve scanned.

I did receive quite a bit of positive male attention with that hair, though. Lynn and I spent many weekend nights going to the Whisky Ã GoGo on the Sunset Strip, Madame Wong’s in Chinatown, and many other places of the rocking and the rolling variety. Great fun and we saw a number of good bands. Later, I went the full punk treatment, with hair only an inch long except for one long trailing bit of hair down my back and a little crest on the crown of my head. The boys were not quite as fond of that haircut. In fact, some of them stopped talking to me, assuming I’d lost interest in boys. It’s amazing what some people will assume on scant evidence. C’est la guerre, c’est l’amour. I don’t even have a pen and ink drawing of me with that haircut. I was quite camera averse in those days. Carl moved in with us about this time, which confused the upstairs neighbors a great deal. They wondered if he was gay, but they also wondered about the sleeping arrangements because…only two bedrooms. We didn’t clarify things to straighten out their rumpled assumptions. Not their business. We found the whole thing rather funny.

Also accurate about this portrait is the worried look on my face. I suspect I looked like that quite a lot in those days. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. But I don’t think I’ll talk about the worst of times. Maybe in another post. Maybe not. When I look at this drawing, I tend to only remember the good times, the laughs, to feel warm inside.

This post is really about where we lived.

(more…)

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Thu 2 Dec 2010