Wednesday, December 31, 2008


so long 2008. don't let the door hit you on the way out.

Monday, December 29, 2008

Friday, December 26, 2008

Kind of Great

Even though it didn't suck, I'm glad that day is gone for this year. I actually had kind of a fantastic 25th of December. It wasn't Merry or any such thing but I spent the day with friends, alcohol, sleep, food, alcohol and more friends. Kind of brilliant.

Icarus (Icky Kitty) & Buddy Playing

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

okay humbug

I'd celebrate a great many things if David Bowie were involved. Pa rum pum pum pum.

Little Drummer Boy
David Bowie & Bing Crsby

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

blogs break

I know professional bloggers need time off but I get sad in my heart when the blogs I read take a break.

Yeah I'm posting holiday music. But Aimee Mann's One More Drifter in the Snow may be the best Christmas album ever. I read a review somewhere that it is the Christmas album to listen to when you want to kill yourself. I'm not there but I dig the music.

Calling on Mary
Aimee Mann

Monday, December 22, 2008

thanks Jimmy Jazz

Thanks to Jimmy Jazz for recording the Kimberly Dark reading last month and putting it on youtube. In this video I am reading the original and my Spanish translation of Kimberly Dark's poem "Pele" from her cd Location is Everything.

Lizz Huerta reading Kimberly Dark's Pele

Blue Monday

No, I'm not blue, just tired. I read some this weekend, including Beau Sia's Night Without Armor II: The Revenge, an answer to singer Jewel's poetry collection with the same title. It was pretty damn funny. The author wrote it in four hours, according to his own legend. Impressive. There are a couple of really great lines and poems in the collection for being written in for hours. I read the entire thing before falling asleep Saturday night. A part of me gets a little scared at things like this, imagining that one day I may be parodied. But I have been, by my friends and I can laugh at myself. I don't take myself that seriously, most of the time.

Oh yeah! Bathhouse day with the beautifuls today! Steamy, glorious nudity and weird red clay sauna with Chinese herbs. Mean ladies slapping the crap out of women on vinyl covered massage tables! Scrubbing every dead skin cell away! Renew! Renew! I am ready to get out of this slack phase. Hot tub, cold tub, steam room, dry room. My body and mind cannot wait.

Blue Monday
New Order

Sunday, December 21, 2008

come hither, winter

My dreams have been extraordinary and I have been reluctant to stay awake. But the circadian rhythms dictate and I am awake far more than I would like to be. It is the season for hibernation and emotional recalcitrance, if that makes any sense to anyone but me. When awake my restlessness is something of a beast I can barely hold on to these days. I'm rearing and roaring inside, like that poor seven-headed beast the whore of babylon is supposed to be riding. When awake I am an unexploded bomb and mean. At least the poet in me is a bit more vivid these days.

I have plans this week of decadence and sweet relaxation. No holiday cheer or celebration, no trees or wrapping paper, no potential disappointments looming in the foreseeable future. Keeping myself in a comfortable box away from hearts and genitalia. Looking forward to: Saturnalia buffet, the Korean bath house with my beautifuls, LA with La Creep and Baby Des, the end of this year.

Polyester Bride
Liz Phair

Saturday, December 20, 2008

some things

Some things are great, Staying up all hours to have good conversations, becoming sweetly more un-sober as the night progresses, waking up with friends sleeping on the sofa and in my library. Not being completely sober yet in the morning. Sleeping all day. Having really great dreams. These are the days when my bohemian sensibilities kick in and I am a little more relaxed and in myself.

That Was the Worse Christmas Ever
Sufjan Stevens

Sufjan Stevens has a great Christmas album, very odd and beautiful. My favorite song beside this one is called "Did I make You cry on Christmas Day? Well You Deserved It."

Friday, December 19, 2008

Like a Leper Messiah

I'm in a bit of a rock star mood lately. Maybe it is my inner, latent rock star wanting to come out and destroy the metaphorical hotel rooms and such. Or not. I'm restless. Inside of myself I am pacing back and forth. Scary things are happening with the family business and I am not sure I will have a job next year. At least it isn't only us, across the board things are crap with the economy. If things fall apart I am seriously considering moving to Utah with the La Creep. Except I hate the cold. Pacing pacing.

I will be thankful when this year is over. It has been too much and not enough all at once. I came up with a term last night that I think is pretty funny, alcohol lubricated it was funny. If you are dumped over Skype you are Skumped. That was the beginning of my shit year and the rest of the year has mostly been like spitting into the wind. Yes, I had some golden moments but it turns out they were not really real. The chapbook and a couple of new, consistent friendships have made all the difference. I will be happy to say goodbye and good riddance to 2008. I doubt the calendar year really makes a difference but here's hoping.

Ziggy Stardust
David Bowie

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Kinda Heart

I kinda heart Anthony Bourdain these days. Watching a lot of Travel Channel and I just dig his attitude. And he smokes. He isn't afraid to be an ass and can be rude. I'm tired of alleged nice people. I am embracing my inner misanthrope. I jut read this gorgeous piece of writing by Bourdain on World Hum: Subcontinental Homesick Blues. Beautiful, un-self conscious writing is a rare, exciting intoxication. More please.

The rain kept people away from the reading last night but I still read to Lea, the woman working and my sister and her friends. It was intimate and sweet. Kind of a roundtable poetry reading. I really do love the poems in this collection.

After I ended up at the Whistlestop (I realize I am ending up there a lot) and had some drinks. I had a great conversation about religion with an old friend I never get to see enough of. Then a heated conversation with half-strangers about whether or not women rock, musically. Um, yes:

This is Love
PJ Harvey

Ha! I haven't even started Christmas shopping. Bah humbug.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Storm Today & Poetry Tonight!

What a storm! I don't remember the last time is rained this hard in San Diego. Arctic air they say. Strongest storm in years. Snow even! Frost predicted for tomorrow morning. I don't have to work but I do have to get my poor bones checked out at some point. My right arm aches from my pinky finger to the shoulder-blade. I was reading something about a Japanese company that have inflatable vests and hip-protectors for the elderly. The packs have sensors and once a person begins to fall the airbags inflate. I could use some of those. I may be the clumsiest person I know.

I have my reading tonight at the Rubber Rose at 7pm! I'm excited, I LOVE The Rubber Rose. They have such a great selection of things that are nice to play with. And a great book section. Their art gallery always has something intriguing in it. I love Carly and Lea, the owners. I was having a dialogue with someone about sex shops and the problems with most of them. The Rubber Rose doesn't have those problems or icky factors or creepy dudes creeping along the walls with their hands way too deep in their pockets. It is a great, comfortable place for humans looking to expand your mind and exciting places. My poetry will expand your mind too and take you to exciting places. Just so you know.

You Don't Know What Love Is
The White Stripes

Tuesday, December 16, 2008


I took a nasty fall yesterday in the parking lot at Home Depot ad it ruined my day. I am stiff and sore this morning and had very sad dreams. Whatever. Chin up. No more falling in parking lots in puddles where no one comes to help.

World Hum has posted a list of their 50 Greatest Travel Songs of All Time. Interesting stuff. I don't agree with a lot of it but it is still a good read. They also have a new layout which I need get to get used to but I think I'll like it once I do. It looks very very cool.

My favorite travel song, for a road trip is:

Never Let Me Down Again
Depeche Mode

And Trivia Night at the Whistlestop is lame. I'm sure it is great if you're a pop-culture junkie who knows the names of things like Strawberry Shortcake's pet, but I was expecting Jeopardy-style trivia. Trivia for people who are well-rounded, people who know their lit, history, psychology, etc. But no. I should have known better.

Monday, December 15, 2008

Hey Universe!

Dear Universe,

I threw out my neck again. Last time this happened you threw me for quite a ride. This time, don't. Chill out. I'll take care of it myself. No more of these games, hear?


Stormy stormy out. Snow in the mountains, water and insane drivers on the road. I am layered up and ready to sit in my car for hours, scowling at the traffic.

Speaking of games, tonight I am planning on kicking ass and taking names at Trivia Night at the Whistlestop. Oh yeah. Can't stop me. Woo woo.

Also, don't forget I'm reading this Wednesday night. You can buy your naughty holiday toys and listen to my poems all at the same time.

You're So Vain
Carly Simon

Sunday, December 14, 2008

A better blogger

I could be a better blogger but I've been lazy. Yesterday I went to Slumdog Millionaire, it was beautiful. Great casting, filming, writing, a complete package. After the film I had some beers and sausage. Toronado may be one of my few favorite places. It was cold and rainy out and it was pretty much a perfect afternoon to drink craft beer and eat spicy mustard.

I know this song is old news but I dig it on a Sunday morning after a long sleep and nothing to do.

Young Folks
Peter, Bjorn & John

Saturday, December 13, 2008

what better gift?

Oh MAN! I just dowloaded Cat Power's new EP Dark End of the Street, released this week. Cuts from Jukebox. Holy holy yes! She covers two of my favorite songs ever! Otis Redding's "I've Been Loving You," and Sandy Denny's classic from when she was in Fairport Convention "Who Knows Where the Time Goes." *sigh* My heart is so happy at these covers that I can barely stand it. Yes, the little things are the things that often blow me away. I am undone in my joy at one of my favorite singers singing my favorite songs! The Otis Redding cover blows my mind. The original always enters my veins with a delicious poison sadness. Cat Power's cover is something else, smoke in my throat, a cold night, that post-joy numbness. Outside it is cold and windy and inside I am wrapped in flannel and drinking coffee. The New York Times is beside me. It may be a perfect morning.

I've Been Loving You
Cat Power covering the great Otis Redding

Friday, December 12, 2008

Congratulations Aiiiya!

Congratulations to my baby sister's best friend Aiiiya who received the most votes and will now be on MTV's Real World.

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Reading at the Rubber Rose

Hey kids! Next Wednesday December 17 I'll be reading from half life of memory at The Rubber Rose. If you missed the event at the Ink Spot in October, this is your chance to come out, hear the new work and buy copies! Support a local artist and a local business at the same time!

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

not you, you.

My favorite Carpenter's song. I'm in limbo, neither here nor there, holding pattern of the mind.

Song For You
The Carpenters

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

mop commercial

the stupid mop commercial has had this song in my head for days.

also, I am eating way too much chocolate & instant soup.

Baby Come Back

Monday, December 8, 2008


I was driving north on the freeway earlier today when a black mushroom cloud suddenly rose up to the east just north of me. I thought a gas truck exploded. Turns out a fighter-jet crashed into a house. I'm glad I didn't actually see the crash. Just hearing what happened and how close I was to seeing it disturbed me. Poor people who actually witnessed the crash, my heart goes to you.

dreaming life

My dreams have taken a turn for the intense/disturbing/violently strange again. Oh subconscious! Please stop this madness. I often wonder what I look like when I'm sleeping, if I am as physically disturbed as I am in my dreams. I wake up with pillows over my head, body diagonal on the bed, the blankets and sheets twisted or kicked off. I don't like waking up exhausted, I doubt anyone does. In one of my dreams last night my phone was ringing but I was physically unable to move. I was "awake" but had no control over my body, I couldn't even open my eyes. When I finally did I was laying beside a friend in a strange metal room, we touched foreheads and then I disappeared into a dream about Mexico: drugs, hotels, and running, always running, seeking and fleeing.

I think a lot about the psychology of dreams. Freud and all that. Dream interpretation gurus, the dolphin-worshipping type. Or other research that speaks of randomness, dreams being where our minds rapidly misfire and produce the strangeness. I don't have any idea. I don't really believe my brain is that random, I have been training not to be for too long. At least if I ever falter in what to write about I have hundreds of dreams documented in my journals and I can become a magical realist.

Hope Sandoval

Sunday, December 7, 2008

ant, my tiny segmented muse

The ant invasion in my apartment seems to be over save for one ant that appears to have taken permanent residence on my writing desk. Each morning when I come into my office to journal and blog, the ant comes out from a pile of paper and circles around. Often she crawls onto one of my hands and makes its way towards the tip of my fingers as if to see better what I am writing. I always brush the little thing off and watch her. I wonder what she eats.

Last night I ended up at the Walkabout with Cecil. We immediatley stopped walking-about went to the Whistle Stop for adult beverages. I ran into a couple of people who are into my writing, which was really cool but a new thing. The best and strangest part of the evening is that I danced. I love dancing but haven't danced in well over a year. I danced with O, who I wrote a poem for that appears in half life of memory. At 6'4", all in black, shaved head and covered in scars, he is the most intimidating-looking human I know; the stories of his scars are interesting enough to write a hundred stories about.

My discipline seems to have gone the way many things have gone this year, quietly slipping out of my life. I look back to see that my writing this year hasn't been prolific. I've gnawed on some essays and chipped away at the novel. One poem was born. I had a lot of internal things going on. But, I put out the chapbook (with more help from B than I could ever express.) I have had poems in the mail and still do. I've applied for things and forgotten about them. But every day I am a writer. It is closer to me than my name.

Depeche Mode

Saturday, December 6, 2008

how things arrive

Last night, despite my distaste for holiday cheer and crowds, I parked downtown and walk to Balboa Park for their December Nights thing. Crowds kill me. But I needed to get out of my house and Bass was working at the House of Palestine Food tent so I decided I'd stop in and say hi. Also, group dynamics fascinate me to no end. I am a keen observer of body language and have been trying to train myself as well in micro-expressions, ( I am a huge fan of the work of Paul Ekman and Daniel Goleman.) Basically, I love people watching. Walking up to the park I quickly realized I was the only person alone. Around me the high tech stroller-pushing families merged with intertwined couples and we all marched up towards the park.

I was in the International Spirit Garden when I was approached by a couple of men who wanted to know how I enjoyed my glogg. They asked me who I came to the park with and I told them I came alone. Then their faces were a pity party. "Ohhh, why?" they asked, concerned. "I like being alone." I don't think they believed me and I excused myself. The pity party on their faces annoyed the crapola out of me. I do like being alone. If I had gone with anyone else to the park I would have had to compromise.

I ended up running into some Puerto Rican musicians I know from the Bomba. We chatted and drank for a while and their funny storytelling in Puerto Rican accents made me very happy. I don't get to hear the island accent so much. Their sense of humor and wide-mouthed vowels reminded me of my grandfather and his friends back in PR, playing dominos at night on a table set up in the front yard. It was a weird comfort I didn't realize I needed. Little reminder of beautiful things I forget in my all too often. Today I'm going to concentrate on finalizing a Puerto Story I wrote about my grandfather's odd funeral.

Joao Gilberto

Friday, December 5, 2008

I mark myself

There is an interesting article on Twilight and young women's desires in the Atlantic. A part of me wants to say nay, the female empowerment kind of books are way better! but another part of sighs and thinks of Mr. Darcy. Whatever, Lizz. Being a human is a complex and often unforgiving process. All contradictions and inconsistencies, rivaled by moments of brilliant illumination. I have a poem, kind of a bizarre poem that ends it is because we are human and brilliant in our inconsistencies, that I found you irresistible.

I won't lie or try to hide it, I hate December, so if my posts are dreary that is a big reason. It is my least favorite month of the year. I hate Christmas decorations and shoppers. I hate having to leave my house. I hate Christmas Carols and I really hate Christmas. The five week period between the day after Thanksgiving and January 2 is the worst for me. Rampant, vapid consumerism, contrived holiday cheer and the rest of the bull**** annoy me to no end. All this holiday joy (retch) that is meaningless to most of the population.

I remember truly enjoyed December when I lived in Mexico. It wasn't Americanized and there was a genuine sense of reflection, air of giving and holiness that was comforting. I remember walking through town and strangers would see me alone and invite me in for champurrado and sweets, to see their nativity scenes. There was little gift giving. It was serene and sweet.

Sweet Jane
Cowboy Junkies

Thursday, December 4, 2008

how to stay

Last night I had early drinks with an old high school friend then spent a couple of hours with my oldest friend, Clay. Clay and I went to elementary school together and have somehow remained friends. Discussing our passions, mine for writing, his for music, Clay asked me if I was still in love with writing. The question hit me, it was nothing I'd ever thought of. I know I love writing, even when I hate it. I know I love the process, slow as it sometimes may be, of creating. But in love with my writing? If I am, it has been a very long time since I've thought about it. What would being in love with my writing feel like? Should we be in love wit our art? Would we fall into the same trappings of romantic love, overlooking fatal flaws of creation? That fancy flight into devastation? Ug, no. I don't want to be in love with my writing.

Damien Rice

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Ayiiia-Real World

Friends, family, strangers who read my blog:

My baby sister's best friend Aiiiya is one of the finalists to be on MTV's The Real World. She is very excited about it and I support the people in my life so I am asking you, dear reader, to vote for Ayiiia.

where the stories come from

Venting my frustration over a very difficult customer, I was told my day could be a short story. I don't think of my daily dramas as dramatic or worthy of being put to paper. But they are, I suppose. I work in an interesting and non-traditional field and I deal with some characters. But I don't know if it is fair to those I work for, though some certainly deserve to be characterized and laughed at, or pondered. We will see. FYI, don't cry to your contractor to lower her price when you are having your life sized Jesus gold-leafed in front of her.

I've been so very tired lately. I fall into bed earlier and earlier each night. I yawn all day and can't wait until I get home, soak in the tub and dissolve into my glass and book. It is the season.

Keep Going West
Liz Pappademas

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

it may be

One of those days. I woke up early from exhausting dreams and couldn't get back to sleep. I went to make coffee in my one-cup machine and forgot to put a cup under the spout and spilled coffee all over my kitchen counter. There are ants everywhere, even in my journal.

Isn't It a Pity
Elliott Smith

Monday, December 1, 2008

ants, evolving

Ants have invaded my apartment. I have no food out. In fact, I realized I haven't gone grocery shopping in weeks. But the ants are still here. In my office, kitchen, my dining area and all over my bathroom. I try not to kill them, but I don't always succeed.

When I was a little girl I was obsessed with ants. I checked books out of the library on ants. I had an ant farm. I would lay belly flat in the backyard for hours watching the ants, enthralled. I was too young to add metaphor or symbolism to my thoughts on the ants. Not like today. I've been training my brain to write and think in terms of writing that everything that is happening somehow transforms into a symbol or metaphor. Everything is a potential poem, each event can be mined for details to be filed away and put in a story. Sometimes I exhaust myself. The ants crawl all over me. Even where there aren't any, I imagine the ants are on me. I woke up several times last night to wipe at my face nervously. I don't like feeling invaded.

I went to see Twilight yesterday. I enjoyed the books, even though the characters were a little too goody-goody for me. The movie was, if anything, a way to spend the afternoon. I wasn't thrilled or disgusted. The last song in the movie was an Iron & Wine song which stuck in my heart like a bubble.

Naked As We Came
Iron & Wine