I had a hunch I’d be no good at this. So much time has gone by, and rest assured, readers, it has been time well wasted. I’ve always been a fan of doing things to the best of my abilities. And BOY do I waste time to the best of my abilities…

Lemme ask you a question. Are you guys a fan of italics? Empson cites italics as being a sign of poor writing (citing, in particular, the romantic poets). I do find them a bit strange. Can it be considered as implementing speech with writing? How do you feel about my unabashed use of “…”?

But I guess this is neither here nor there.

I have big news for you all… I am moving to London! That’s right, no more Los Angeles adventures, not for a while anyway. I have a good feeling about this trip, though there is a lot I am going to miss. But I guess this is just another chapter in…

“The Adventures of a Hopeless Slackass”

STAY TUNED!

Now, I never guaranteed you CNN style 24hr circus slap-you-in-the-face entertainment, for I don’t really get up to much.

Gee, I wonder what I’ll learn to hate about London? The people? The food? The landmarks?

Guy De Maupassant was known to have frequented the restaurant at the top of the Eiffel Tower to eat breakfast. While one would usually associate such behavior with an unusual enthusiasm for the steel monument, Maupassant was actually more concerned with ignoring it. His words on the subject was something along the lines of, “It is the only place where I do not have to look at it [the Eiffel Tower]”. I’m told that the placement of the Tower was actually quite arbitrary and it’s function as a city center was subsequent to its construction. It has been imagined that climbing the Eiffel Tower is like revealing linguistic associative truth; that only once we climb the tower and see things clearly, see things for what they are, see things in the bigger picture, we are then liberated from the rigid structure of the sign. It is in this understanding that we realize the belated nature of the Tower to the city as a whole… and in turn, it’s arbitrariness as a center. Funny how carried away we get about landmarks, right??

Do you think that if Maupassant lived in Los Angeles, he’d eat atop the US Bank Tower?

One of my biggest anxieties about moving to London is… well… getting over myself. I’m sure you can all relate. As Cartesian subiectum, we have been a little too inclined to take things (by which I mean ourselves) much to seriously, or take things personally when we really shouldn’t. In turn, we end up taking the blame for everything. Everything becomes our fault. And all of a sudden, we perceive ourselves as the topic of vicious rumors and snide remarks. All eyes are now on us! In such a (selfish) world we become wrapped up in a cocoon of our self, often unable to see our proper relation to the bigger picture. Our perspective becomes skewed, and we, in turn, see everything in relation to us, as against us. Ironically, these so-called “humble” thoughts have their genesis in some pretty self centered conclusions…

This is where and why I have social problems. As much as I am in pain to admit it, it’s most often my own damn fault.

I guess the only solution I’ve found as of late, is to stop thinking of myself all the damn time. And to stop thinking that everyone gives a flip about what I’m doing at the moment. The (sad?) truth is no one gives half a damn. People are far too concerned with themselves in the first place… but I find liberation in this.

I’ll be the first to admit that I have some self esteem issues; but who doesn’t? I often see myself as Maupassant sees the Eiffel Tower; an ugly behemoth responsible for my own melancholy… at the center of all that is wrong with the world…

Alas, there is so much strife in Being!

One day I’ll face my fears. I will enter the behemoth. I shall climb the ugly complicated mass that is myself. And I will eat breakfast in the head of the beast! I will learn to look over the city streets and buildings that  make up my life and relationships. And in an ephemeral but liberating moment, I will realize my insignificance… And I will learn to laugh at myself, for it is in that fleeting moment of infancy in which I am truly free. Free from the mythic image of the self, and its shackles of decadent self-contemplation! I’ll turn to my breakfast companion, Maupassant, we shall exchange knowing glances, and we’ll both let out a little chuckle. “TO LIFE”!

… Oh dear. There I go with the italics again! Get used to it, Mr. Empson.

See you all on the other side of the Atlantic!


-Starla

XOXO

Hello again, my most loyal and indefatigable boozers.  

Solemnity has been my emotional undertaking as of late. Alas, I cannot dispose of thoughts pernicious and rancid unless given reason… for I do believe myself to be a being most reasonable and if not given reason to abandon such harmful process, I have none (I do admit, boozers, as I am only human, my mind does me a great disservice from time to time). 
I’ve been trapped for days now. If I were to be completely honest with you all (and I intend to be just that, my friends) I can admit to a few bad habits. Would you mind lending your eyes? I’d be eternally grateful. 

I feel as if I’ve fell of of some sort of proverbial cliff… IOW, I’m coming off of a sugar high. I’m crashing. And it hurts. And the worst part is that I didn’t fall very far. But sometimes the worst falls are the little ones, you just don’t anticipate the pain. At least when I’ve time to drop I can prepare for death. 

Does anyone know that one Smashing Pumpkins song, “Lily”? As silly as it is (both my sentiment and the song) I feel like it’s the most consistent summation of my obsession with others. Our character in the song is a stalker, and professes his love for a girl called ‘Lily’. Not only that, but the poor guy is convinced that she’s got the hots for him as well… only the police come and arrest the offending gentleman… the last lines of the song being, “Lily, I know she loves me, ‘cause as they’re (the police) dragging me away, I swear I saw her raise her hand and wave, ‘goodbye’”. Creepy RIGHT? Who am I to talk. Love’s always been an illusion for me, readers. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I only exist on social networking sites and blogs/am a cartoon character. Go figure.                         

I remember that time that I brought you flowers. You weren’t home (though the lights were on). I stood there, staring blankly. I felt so foolish, what was I thinking?. It was one of those nights where you feel like Charlie Brown, and it should have been raining. I fell down on the wet grass in agony, anguish carousing though my very being… and I thought about the kisses we never shared. I thought about caresses that never were, the sex we never had. I looked back with strange, synthetic nostalgia… and I couldn’t even bring myself to weep. A poor sap like me doesn’t even deserve sorrow. I smothered my face in the damp soil. It felt right, it felt familiar, and it was the closest I came to tears that night. 
But these days my ‘problems’ never merit tears. The record and needle are far too worn down and the song just isn’t as sharp as it used to be. And the only things on television are re-runs of flicks that used to make you cry. Somebody pinch me.
Always in mourning, constantly mourning, what never was.

Love Plus One,
-Starla

‘Ello boozers!

By simply peering into your respective pairs of eyes from this beloved screen of ours, I can tell you’re quite a smart lot! So, I hope you’re not offended if I state the obvious and point out that every post I make is reffered to as an “episode”… so by extension, we can only assume this to me “Episode 1”! Got it?

 I knew you could handle it, you’re such a clever bunch.

This seems like an appropriate “first entry” considering you get to meet so many fantastic people. A great buncha lads n’ lasses.

The other day I  got a visit from my sister, Gina, who flew in from San Francisco. I absolutely refuse to refer to the city as “Frisco”. For did you know, dear readers, that there is a city in Texas which goes by that very name? I have heard many nicknames for SF, but I consider “Frisco” to be the most attrocious and I shall have none of it on this blog.

This is Gina.

We look alike huh?

…

In any case, Andrew and I had to bus out to Culver City to meet up with Dan, Brian and Natt. Unfortunately Cameron couldn’t make it.

We were on the 217 and we noticed a profound but common demonstration of ignorance regarding bus etiquette! My fellow commuters, have you ever been wintess to the following kerpuffle?

RIDICUROUS (as Seinfeld’s ‘Donna Chang’ once said…)

Allow me to illustrate. Here we have a row on a bus. There are two seats. There is always some asshole who sits on the aisle seat, blocking all access to the window. Then, it becomes the oncoming passenger’s responsibility to let the jerk know that they need a seat. Normally it wouldn’t bother me… but he 217 is typically a crowded line. OH THE INSENSITIVITY.

We’re living in a society! (as Seinfeld’s George Costanza said… on many occasions.)

In any case, we all hung out at Jtech for a while. Afterwords we had some din dins.

We had a grand time! And I was pretty damn chuffed to see Gina.

Shame we couldn’t get a nice picture of us with Dan, the handsome (bearded) devil! And Andrew? Fukkit, he was taking the pictures.

Whenever I read the slogans on the side of the cups at Chpotle, I want to blow my brains out. Have you ever taken a look at the quotes? Fucking ridiculous. I’m embarrassed. It feels very…. “OK SODA”… We should move on from this subject.

So is this it? This is the blog? Readers, I promised you the “shit” on my innaurgural post, and I don’t feel as if I’ve delivered. Here I am in my lonely abyss of the internet, anything would seem interesting to me I suppose. Well, anyway, there ya go.

I’ll leave you with some depressing “bus on the way home” imagery. I’m such a freakin’ artist!!!

Give me a call guys. You’d be suprised how lonely it gets here on the world wide web. Or maybe you know all about that.

‘Til next time!

-Starla

Hullo from the internet everyone!

My name is Starla. ‘Starla Darla Slunk’ in full. It’s so nice of you to drop by my brand new blog! First off, I’d like to let you all know that I’m extremely new at this. That being said, I think this blog is gonna be the shit.

On the occasion of a post, I’m gonna try and upload as many photos as possible. Unfortunately, I don’t really have any pictures right now. I just got this sweet camera though, so fukkit. Nothing special though. Just pictures of me, hanging out with friends.. or something like that. You know, blog stuff, what more is there to explain?

The frequency of the posts will vary methinks… depending on whether anything exciting happens in the dreary, dull life of yours truly (Starla). But the way I see it, I can manipulate any sort of mundane moment and turn it into a gem because this is a BLOG, folks.

I really wish I had more to tell you, dear readers, but I’m all out. SHEESH, this blog stuff is cause for perspiration…

Love Plus One,

-Starla Darla Slunk.