Archive for the 'musings' Category
18
Mar
09
Protected: a disclaimer.
14
Feb
09
The Return of the Rug. “B.”
I woke up today, and the letter of recommendation had been emailed to me.
I busted ASS and finished the other work that needed to be done to apply for this thing (please please please God, though if your answer is “no” I’ll put my trust in you and clean house any old how, unless you just up and Kill me or something).
So my Pre Valentine’s Day Show is now gonna be a Valentine’s Day Show, and it looks like I’ve been offered a spot to perform it in an actual gallery in the midst of a Valentine’s Day Event!!! So how do you like them apples?
I spent $25 on utter kitsch for tomorrow. I realized a few moments ago that my debit card is gone. I called my bank to see if I could freeze my card tonight. I am pretty sure the cashier at the aforementioned store forgot to give it back, so I’ll go back tomorrow. The bank man said they don’t do that, and I said some entirely insane things to him.
He seemed kind of happy about this and told me his relationship just ended in time for Valentine’s Day and that he was as miserable as I sounded last week. We laughed together, and I made this video.
I really hope and pray that lady isn’t some evil debit card stealing villian under the guise of a sweet lady cashier.
If it’s the latter, watching this video could become a sad, painful thing.
14
Feb
09
The Return of the Rug. “A”
That rug I thought was ripped out from under me turned out only to be in my head.
I’ll go ahead and tell the story now that it’s over for the moment.
I needed a professional artist’s recommendation letter, and a friend said he’d do it. The deadline was today, and our communication lines busted about a week ago.
Suddenly, mid-shoeshine yesterday I had that “I am totally fucked.” feeling. The “I’m like I was as a kid, collecting feathers off the street thinking if I saved enough of them, I’d eventually be able to fly…” feeling.
(I truly did this. Every time I got a new feather, I’d get on my bed and gather my collection evenly in each hand, then flap my arms furiously and hop to the floor.)
Then, I got very confused trying to order two simple beverages at the starbucks and had a meltdown. I was wearing a stupid looking puffy red hat to make this even more appealing. In case nobody noted I was having a meltdown, I threw my hands up in the air and said “I am having a meltdown!”
They only charged me for the cheaper drink so I pulled a mild version of this. I told them “I’m sorry. I see you every day. I love you guys. I don’t want any problems.” A few eyebrows were raised, but I was forgiven.
I returned to the shoeshine stand and had a similar meltdown, though it’s a touch more painful to admit, so I won’t go into details other than “Let’s just not do that maneuver again, Caila.”
Then, I passed a man I knew on the way to the loo and he didn’t say hello. I was offended in my mind “Oh, Mr. Too Good to Talk to Me!” Then, I caught a glimpse of myself in a passing reflection, and half my hair was crazily out of my crazy ass hat. I understood. I wouldn’t have spoken to me either.
I laughed out loud, just as a woman passed me. I felt the need to tell her “Oh, it’s just I saw how I look in this hat is all” so that she wouldn’t think I was laughing at nothing like a crazy person.
She ignored me.
Then, on my way back from the loo, I noticed my blouse had popped open in the middle.
Then, 1/2 an hour later, I noticed my finger was cut and dripping with blood.
I was so hopelessly sad last night I fell asleep with the lights out and my contacts in.
I wonder if anybody is reading all of this. “Hello!” if so.
04
Feb
09
Brainpipes.
I’m so grateful when clogging caked delusions dissipate. The underlying reality which gets revealed is always so much brighter and more loving a presence than I could have imagined.
Here is a picture of a clouded moment:
02
Feb
09
Wow.
I post ads on craigslist at times pointing them to this blog, as I’m interested in it being seen.
Today, I received 3 comments from an individual (one was an accidental double-submit, but it packed an extra punch!)
Basically, the gentleman told me my (he put the quotes in) “work” is futile and vapid, and to please give up being an artist because I have nothing to say, and my work is thus improper and “Not good enough!”
In a sense, he is correct! I do have nothing to say, and I’ll say it anyway! I continue to exist in Spite of resentful brain machinations. I feel better day-to-day having expressed what little bits and pieces I can, and I will continue until I no longer feel compelled.
Apparently, the ‘work’ is hitting people with their own rigidity.
Which in turn hits me with mine, and once it’s revealed in my consciousness, it gets blown into dust, as none of it is real, permanent, or true.
Here is a picture of me taking myself very seriously:
01
Feb
09
Twinkle Twinkle!
Sometimes, you know a rough and tumble sort of man who doesn’t look like the man in the picture, only resembles him vaguely, and you feel compelled to draw this picture of him alongside a teddy bear, singing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.”
You don’t know why you did this, and you feel like a bit of an asshole, but you’re nonetheless compelled to show him the picture, as you find it amusing.
The man agrees, laughs, and appreciates that you took the time drawing him. You don’t feel like a mean person anymore!
I don’t know why I just wrote that in the second person, but I like it better that way.
Perhaps I’m correct, anyhow.
Maybe you do do that.
I’ve just been hit with a flood of ideas for the Friday the 13th piece, and I have the feeling I’m gonna be compelled to do them.
1. My friend Jenny, a brilliantly talented artist, has been designing hearts for this. Here’s a picture of one that she sent me:
One heart will be large enough for 3 people to perform on top of. Right now, I am thinking Dolores Park may be the ideal place.
2. The performance should start around sunrise and last until an hour after sundown. I won’t step off the heart except to go to the bathroom.
3. I will be joined at some point during the day by Gina Gold and Hector Zavala, two fantasticly gifted performers.
4. Spray Tan. Blonde Wig. Red Dress.
5. Ceremonial Purging of your Love Stories From Hell. Keep sending them my way please!!! Send email to: caila@att.net
6. Radio interview via telephone.
7. Easy Listening.
8. Balloon Hearts. Valentines for Strangers.
9. Dance Routine.
10. My diet for the day will consist only of Holy Water. Communion esque Wafers. Cake. Chocolate and a multi-vitamin. Or perhaps only chocolates and pink, red, and white things so I don’t have to make myself sick.
11. Heart opening yoga.
12. Crying for 30 Minute intervals.
13. Bloody Cake Fight.
Now, I am off to the East Bay! Have a lovely day, folks!
I don’t know what my deal is with farm animals. Perhaps I was one in a past life.
Years ago, when I lived in Chicago, I once wore a puffy sleeved Kathy Lee Gifford dress, pigtails and dripping mascara to the Water Tower Place.
I brought a stool to sit on, a See ’N Say, and two attractive, normal looking women with me.
I do not have a photo of the two women.
I proceeded to pull the lever and lip-synch to the toy:
“‘This is a turkey: Robble gobble, robble gobble gobble.”
“Here’s a cat “Meeeeow”‘
I would stare passersby in the eye while doing this. In the meantime, my two normal looking girlfriends would hand out flyers for a show my band was performing in. If anyone asked what the hell I was doing, I would say “I’m in a bahnd.” and sort of flip my hair and one of the girls would hand them a flyer and say “Come to the show!” If they asked again “But what are you doing?!” I would flip my hair and pose in a different way and say “I’m in a bahnd.”
I also had a revulsive contusion on my leg that I’d obtained from a violent drunken rollerskating accident with Natalie at the fabulous Rainbo Roller Rink, which has since been torn down and replaced with condos. 
They actually had a bar in the roller rink, which I LOVED until that awful moment.
Anyhow, I had a repulsive blackened contusion on my leg and I’d occasionally lift it and show the bruise to passersby when I felt it appropriate.
I don’t believe anyone came to see our show as a specific result of this promotion.
My friend John was a little down and out. I wanted to distract him.
“John,” I said. “Have you ever heard the story about the dog and the bone?”
“No.”
“Ok, well there was a dog, crossing a bridge, holding a bone in its mouth. This dog looked in the water and saw another dog with a bone, and our dog got jealous. He wanted the other dog’s bone! He jumped in the water, lost his bone and drowned to death.”
I told John “Now you tell me. What happened to the dog after it drowned to death?”
John is pretty good natured. “A shark eats him.”
I asked John if the shark enjoyed the dog and if it digested well.
John was a bit distracted. I asked if he’d like to hear another version of what happens to the dead dog. What, he said.
“There is a little old lady who lives in a cottage alone. She hasn’t seen anyone in so long. Not only has she not seen a Human Being in years, she hasn’t seen a butterfly, she hasn’t seen a beetle, and she is So sad and lonely, she doesn’t even notice the blades of grass swaying in the breezes.
One day, she sees something floating in the water and she looks out over yonder. She gasps! It is our corpse of the dog! She is so happy! She has a friend! She scoops it up and holds it, and runs it into her cottage. She dries it off and dresses it up in a little outfit with a bonnet and sits it at the table with her. In between meals, she puts the dog in the freezer so he’ll stay intact. And the little old lady and her frozen dead dog live happily ever after!”
John laughed a little.
27
Jan
09
Hospital Restaurant.
This is the most bizarre thing I have seen in awhile.
A Latvian Restaurant with a Hospital Theme.
I went to Riga once, with Ariella. We went to the most eccentric restaurant I’ve ever been to, Lido. These pictures do a touch of justice to the experience, which was dirt cheap 6 years ago. so I suppose if any country is gonna have such a place as “Hospitalis”, I’m not shocked that it’s Latvia.
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