Archive for the ‘Death (Don’t Be Sad It’s Only Natural)’ Category


It’s been quite a while since I lost barfed on about PR. Time flies when you’re having fun. Or in my case, designing and sewing 8-12 hours a day and never leaving a room with no windows and not knowing what time it is. Ever.

Anyway, as you can see, it looks like I called it exactly about who is making it to the top 3. Check out my first posts on PR and I can prove it to ya. Are you gonna look? Ok, well make sure you look because I love being right. Yeah, I’m one of “those girls”. AND I knew that Wretchen was going to make it. Fucking balls. Fucking ball face balls. I really don’t like that cunty fishstick hippy. But we all know who is going to win. And that is Mondo.

So that being said, who here saw Michael C. lose it? I can tell you this right now. That motherfucker was molested as a child. TOTALLY molested by Uncle Chooch. Poor guy, when he walked into that back room after his dismissal, I SWORE he was going to pull out a pistol and blow his head off. Too bad. I need drama like that right now.

This motherfucker has done lost his gotdamn mind!


I woke up with puffy eyes, again.

No, it’s not because I rented The Last Station last night from Red Box and then cried for about 4 minutes there at the end.

I took my monthly trek to El Cajon yesterday via trolley and stinky bus to go pay my overdue car storage fees. This is always a nice break for me because the travel time round trip takes about 3 hours and I often like to escape my business life. After I had paid my bill, I sat and waited at a bus stop on the corner of Peach and Second. The temperature was close to 90 and it was near that time where the sky was half dark blue, half bright orange and you could hear about one or two early bird crickets getting ready for the night.

I sat in a daze, staring at a weed growing through a crack in the sidewalk, thinking about my future and debating whether or not I should give it all up and go on a killing spree, when I heard a shuffling behind me. It was a very tall and frail homeless man, or to whom appeared to be homeless, lazily dragging his feet as he walked like a newly turned zombie. He stopped and let out an “ugh” as he grabbed the bus stop post and clenched his chest. My first thought was “Oh shit please don’t do anything that would elect me to be a hero”. But then he just kept on walking. I was annoyed for some reason. But he kept walking.

After an hour or so the bus had not come. It was still hot as hell and a breeze came through; not a relieving one. It felt like Satan was blowing his hot ass breath on me. Asshole. I decided to walk to Broadway which was only a few blocks down. As I hit Broadway I saw a bus stop a ways down and couldn’t wait to sit and relax. I have had the worst day and was looking forward to the relaxing ride home. As I came up to the bench the same homeless man I had seen earlier was sitting there, hunched over, very tired looking and eating potato salad out of a small cup. His posture was depressing. Beat down and surrendered. I sat by him and gave him a nice hello. He mumbled something and kind of shrugged his shoulders.

“Bluih blarg ghhhh Tsss how I feel.”

“What?” I said?

“That’s how I feel”. I assumed he was talking about the exhausted breath I let out as I sat down. I had already established that he was some old crazy homeless and that anything he had to say would be that from a crazy man. But then, for some reason, I decided to talk to him to see what kind of responses I could muster out of him.

“When does the bus come?”

He shrugged his shoulders and replied, “Oh I don’t know, I’m just sitting here and relaxing”.

“Oh ok….”


“You live around here sir?”

He mumbled again something I couldn’t make out but then in a clearer voice he said “Well yeah, I’ve lived here my whole life, born and raised in San Diego.”

“Oh really?:” I was surprised to get such a response from him. It was coherent and it encouraged me to ask more.

“Oh that’s cool, me too!”

“Yeah, I went to El Cajon High over here around the corner, class of 63!” He seemed to be excited and I started to see this new life in him.

“Oh really? I went there too, in 94/95!” It was an odd feeling to discover that two people with such a great gap in age and social class had something like that in common. “Go Braves…” He said. (Indians were our school mascot.)

He then went on to talk about his youth. He explained how he was born in Hillcrest at Mercy, long before, as he said, it turned into “[he lifted his hand and bent his wrist like a gay man] town”. He talked about being in Vietnam for 2 years, traveling around the planet 3 times and then going to San Diego State, and how he worked 2 jobs to get through College and would drive up to Hollywood every weekend to teach piano. He respectfully turned the conversation to his belief in God. How he knew he had only a few years to live and he was exhausted of this life of war and waste, and couldn’t wait to be with Him. I always get annoyed with people pushing beliefs, but this was not the case here; this was a man with true faith and didn’t care if others’ were different. He had a happiness about this that I oddly couldn’t help but be envious of.

After about an hour of thoughtful conversation about war and peace and life and death, I saw my bus coming in a distance.

“Look at me now, spent my whole life fighting wars and watching wars… and here I am on this bench with only a few years to live.”

I got up as the bus pulled in. “Good night Dear you have great night!” he exclaimed. As I waved bye, I noticed how he was exuding some liveliness, his posture was upright and he had a big smile on his face regardless of the semi depressing conversation I had with him. He looked nothing like the tired and beaten down old homeless I initially saw that night.

And just a little more, I began to hate people. A tiny bit more.

When I quit drinking a few years back, I discovered my purpose in life; to design and create subjectively beautiful and unique garments for people that I like and then to make my brother $100,000 because that’s how much he gave me for my store, AND then to die. I’ve seen enough my first 25 years of life. I’m sorry, yours may be not as bleak, like, for example some of you live for God and others live to reproduce and have families or maybe to find love. At this point in time that isn’t for me. I’m a creator for the time being and that’s that.

So, without further ado, the following are photographs of my two (hopefully) next big purchases;

Because it's clean as hell.

Because life can be even shorter and you don't want to burden the next of kin with a $3000 coffin expense.