6.28.2007

Survey Thursday

1. WHAT'S YOUR BROTHERS NAME?
Scott.

2. WHAT WERE YOU DOING 10 MINUTES AGO?
Looking for a survey to post this Thursday.

3. IF YOU WERE A COLOR, WHAT WOULD YOU BE?
A pretty, pretty one. Oh, color? I thought you said princess.

4. MTV, BET, OR VH1?
I don't have a TV, which is a total "upgrade!!"

5. IF YOU COULD GO ANYWHERE RIGHT NOW, WHERE WOULD IT BE?
Home to Miami. Or London.

6. NAME A PERSON(S) THAT STARTS WITH THE LETTER "R"?
Renee, who sent me this survey.

7. WHERE'S THE BEST PLACE TO GET ICE CREAM?
At the corner store down stairs when I'm on my period.

8. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL?
I'm not touching that one.

9. DO YOU LIKE PICKLES?
With rare burgers, yes. But not on them.

10.WHAT COLOR IS YOUR PHONE?
They're both black.

11.WHAT ARE YOU DOING TOMORROW?
Going to a show where I will most likely endure some form of humiliation.

12. ARE YOU EASY TO GET ALONG WITH?
Wow. Um...no?

13. WHAT MOVIE DO YOU WANT TO SEE RIGHT NOW?
This is Spinal Tap. I need to remind myself how much I hate musicians before going to this show tomorrow.

14.WHOSE BIRTHDAY IS COMING UP??
Mary's.

15. DO YOU LIKE STARBURSTS?
I'm a Spree girl. Chewy, specifically.

16. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN TO SEA WORLD?
Nope.

17. IS DANNY TANNER THE COOLEST DAD EVER?
No, but Jim Rockford would be.

18. HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU WANT?
Absolutely none.

19. HAVE YOU EVER SMOKED?
All the time.

20. ARE YOU JUDGMENTAL?
Yes, but usually only when in a bad mood.

21. DO YOU KNOW ANYONE WHO WORSHIPS THE DEVIL?
Yeah, myself. Oh, the devil? I thought you said whiskey.

22. DO YOU PRONOUNCE "OFTEN" AS "OFF-EN" OR "OFF-TEN"?
I prefer the word 'oft'.

23. Do you know anyone from Alaska?
Yes, many. That tends to happen growing up in Seattle.

24. ARE YOU A FAN OF FOOTBALL?
Playing when it's warm outside, yes.

25. WHAT 'CLIQUE' DO YOU DESPISE?
The Marina. Is that considered a clique?

26.HAVE YOU EVER LIED TO A FRIEND?
Sure did. Still feel bad about not telling her at first that I was fucking her ex.

27.DID YOU TALK TO A GIRL/BOY YOU LIKED TODAY?
Yes, and it was terrible.

28. DO YOU LIVE IN THE GHETTO?
Umm...I live downtown. So I guess, yes.

29.EVER BEEN ON TV?
Yes.

30.HAVE YOU EVER EATEN ALLIGATOR?
Oh god yes. Mmm...Montage in Portland.

31.DO YOU THINK ANNA NICOLE SMITH KILLED HERSELF?
Who gives a fuck.

32.WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU GOT MAD AT?
Mary.

33.WHAT DO YOU HEAR AT THIS VERY MOMENT?
Zero 7--The Garden--This Fine Social Scene.

34.SWIM OR SURF?
I FUCKING NEVER WANT TO HEAR ABOUT SURFING EVER AGAIN.

--M

6.26.2007

It's Tuesday again.

Sorry I skipped last week. It was boring.

S--
I got into another HUGE fight with Miguel and Mark over that goddamned surfboard--except this time it was in the middle of a busy bar on a friday night. Oops.
I guess I finally just cracked; I mean, I have to hear about that fucking thing at least four or five times a week. I guess I should feel fortunate that this was only the second actual fight we've had, the first being the night Mary left at this kid's bar in North Beach.

The point is, I took care of your surfboard. I was sick of hearing about it, and I took care of it. It's done, thank god, and nobody owes anybody anything anymore.
You're welcome.
--M


p.s.--That's right. You're both fucking welcome. --M

6.25.2007

The Five Stages

I was at Amber on Saturday night reeling from the hour of sleep I got the night before and the several cocktails I had already consumed so far that evening. It being Pink Saturday, this little bar onn Church and Market was slowly filling with all-kindsa-patrons, but I'm in a prime spot in the window huddled with Erica and my old friend Lisa relating the events of the night previous. Lisa asked me, "Are you going to write about this?"
"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, I probably will."

So here we go.

I would like to frame this story using a device that is named after a quite real affliction that I have recently (about half and hour ago while on the phone with Mary) noticed that I fall into all too often.
The question is: What happens to Miranda when she pursues someone unsuccesfully for a very long time and then finally bags them knowing it will lead to nothing more than that?

The answer?

The Five Stages of Sorting Through Various Repercussions of My Inherent Sluttiness
by: Moxie Moure

1. Shock
"Fuck. I'm so fucking tired. I can't believe it's 7:45 in the fucking morning and I'm walking around downtown on the way to open my fucking store on an hour of sleep. Fuck. Goddammit Miranda, why the fuck did you sleep with a fucking married man? Again? I mean, I know you've had a crush on him for like--months. But does that a wise decision make? FUCK."

2. Storytelling
"Yeah, so dude, I totally hit the married guy last night. Yeah it was crazy. No! I didn't fucking start it, he begged me EUROPE STORY STYLE! Yeah, that's right, I just dropped a fucking Friends reference on your ass. His wife? No idea. Yeah, it was huge, true story. How old is he? Umm...yeah, it doesn't really matter. Okay fine, 40. Don't fucking judge me! I was trying to be fucking responsible--I mean, I stopped it like...four times!!"*

[*Yes, I know. I just said in a previous post that expressing some amount of willpower does not make you valorous. I am very aware of this.]

3. Drunkenness
"Oh my god. His wife is like...fifteen years older than me. Omigod--I'm self sufficient, hot and TWENTY SIX YEARS OLD, and I'm still not good enough for him. Fuck. I'm a fucking idiot. Fuck, where the fuck is Mary? Goddamnit, answer your phone. Omigod, I'm so tired. What the fuck is wrong with me? Oh wait, I know what will fix this...alcohol! You know what it's time for? Emergency Cocktail Meeting. Later? I don't know, how 'bout Amber?"

4. Vengeance
"Well fine then. FUCK IT, and his fucking surfboard that Shane broke too. You know what? Fuck that fucking surfboard. If I get nothing else from this, I will at least never have to hear about that goddamn thing ever again. No more quips from either of them. I mean, if some girl's friend breaks your fucking board and then you fuck her unbeknownst to your wife, I think it should be pretty self evident that in this instance, these two wrongs make a right. The surfboard never fucking existed. That is, if you don't want your wife to find out."

5. Denial
"Fuck it. I don't even like him. This is too fucking complicated. I'm calling Mathisen."

--M

6.17.2007

Save the date: The Nihilist Bookfair

A con[blog]versation I had with Hunts recently spawned some thought.

First, from me.

m--
Nice work, Hunts. You're blogging, and I'm Proud. Proud like a really really proud thing.
Wow, that last sentance sounds a lot like my prose as of late. Huh.
--M


And from Hunts:

M--
Hey, i miss you, sorry to have not called. but we should hook it up; maybe later we can cruise down to r. kelly blvd and get some fried chicken. What are these "reviews" you speak of? I need to know about these things. Your words are a little bit punk rock, but what dominates is the nihilism. so. the cookie hath crumbled; and now you're a nihilist, which, as the dude says, must be exhausting.
--m


What the fuck. A LITTLE BIT punk rock? I mean, don't I get at least a medium amount or a generous handful of punk rock?
I suppose it doesn't really matter--I mean, don't punk rock and nihilism walk hand in hand anyway? I mean, it's like: "Okay, I'm at this fucking show and this fucking moron looked at my friend funny. I could either a: break this fucking bottle over his head or b: drink this fucking beer. Hmm. Whatever dude, they're both pretty punk rock."

That's what I'm fucking talking about.

Okay--roll call. Does anyone fucking remember that time I worked at the circus and Damon and Spokane Mike showed up at the Honey Hole with the NUMBER ONE PRETTIEST BOY CRYSTAL AND I HAD EVER SEEN? Remember when I finally got him in the back of Jackson's car, leaned in close to him and whispered in his ear: "I could ride you until you cried"? Oh yeah. I wrote a piece loosely based on that night. I was reminded of him two nights ago, and so, I will tell this story as I might if in the company of my favorite bartender, Jeremiah Harrison.

So there I was, two beers in but just arriving at Whiskey Thieves. A quick lap reveals Erica has not yet arrived, so I saddle up to the bar to order a Maker's rocks and a beer. The bartender retreats to grab my PBR from the fridge, and in an effort to get my wallet from my bag, I bump into some kid sitting at the stool next to me. I turn in his direction to whisper a 'sorry' and am met with the gaze of the NUMBER ONE PRETTIEST BOY I HAVE EVER SEEN. True story. When I finally got the guts to introduce myself, I come to find his name is James.
One Maker's turned to two, which turned to last call, and next thing you know, James and I are rushing to the corner mart to grab a six pack before it's too late. This of course leads to the standard 'go to my apartment, put on some punk rock and try on all of my sunglasses while we trash the place' type after party.
It was somewhere midst all the subsequent naked sexiness that he took my hand and explained to me that in actuality, he has a girlfriend, that maybe he shouldn't be doing this. My response? Oh. Yeah. It was something like: "Dude, it doesn't matter whether you actually do this or not--your intent would be the same, and should you chose to obstain it doesn't make you fucking valorous because you were able to express some will power. What you really shouldn't be doing? You shouldn't be doubting your relationship with your girlfriend--the fact that you are doubting it isn't saved or destroyed by cheating on her or no. And yes--yes you do doubt her--or you wouldn't be here right now getting the best blow job of your short life."

Fine. Call me what you will, but do not for one moment take the last dregs of my rock and roll lifestyle from me, because you will have to tear it from my cold, dead hands.

Oh, yes, you in the back? I'm sorry, your question? Oh. Did I ever sleep with the kid from the Honey Hole? Unfortunately not. I was valiant in my efforts, but that one must be filed with Mr. Jackson, a couple of guys named Pete, and ironically, Spokane Mike.
Yes. Second row. His name? Oh, you mean the Honey Hole kid?

Funny you should ask.

It was James.

--M

6.12.2007

Noon on Tuesday and Late Night PDX-SFO Text Messaging

Noon on Tuesday
S--
I couldn't reach you by phone (as I'm sure you're aware) so thought this the next best method.
Hope your week was both better than mine and better than I fear.
My best friend Mary came and went in what always seems like far too short a time, and since last wednesday afternoon, I've been either shit-canned, at work, or sleeping. Sleeping in my bed that still feels all to expansive since she's not here.
I have a hard time being present and able to prioritize when I so freshly miss someone, and so as my beautiful apartment falls into further disrepair and my the reviews I've been performing at work are going more and more terribly, I hope to use my next two days off for something productive.

Maybe I'll write some more crappy prose as I seem to be doing in the last couple of months, maybe I'll finish painting my kitchen, but largely I am hoping that this is one of those things that can be solved by punk rock.
Call me.


Ten hours later:

Mary Star: Life sucks

Milkshake Moure: Thats true

MS: Then what?

MM: Then you eat shit and die

MS: Yeah I guess

MM: At least we get laid

--M

6.08.2007

Late night LAX-SFO text messaging.

Mary Starr: I landed

Moxie Moure: Thank god youre alive because the truth is im in love with you so lets move to texas and get a chiuahuah and name her moxie

MS: How bout cocksie

MM: Yeah short for cocksucker just like her moms

MS: Whore

MM: Bitch

--M

And now, a little Voltron for you all.

6.07.2007

It's Thursday, Bitches

1.Does someone have a crush on you?:
Yes, unfortunately.

2. Last thing you ate?:
Yes, I'm eating this week.

3. Do you have A.D.D.?:
Prolly.

4. Who was the last person you messaged over MySpace?
This kid I went to highschool with. His name is Kyle Palmer. A mutual friend of ours from way-back-then recently messaged me, so I had to hit him up. Especially 'cause he lives in Oakland.

5. I cant wait until..
...this hangover goes away. Vitamin Energy, take me away!

6. What color shirt are you wearing?:
Guess. No, it's not black, thank you. It's grey. My sweatshirt is black, smartass.

7. Who was your last text message on your cell from?
Erica. We were trying to figure out what happened last night. No, I still don't really know.

8. Are you paranoid?
No.

9. Favorite places to go on weekends?
Work. I guess it doesn't really count if it's mandatory, so I'll change my answer to 'to sleep'.

10. Do you like the person you are becoming?:
Very much so.

11. Are you tired?:
Not really. Remember? Vitamin Energy. Sweet.

12. Are your friends all changing?
They're moving. Always moving.

13. Is there an iPod near you?:
Fuck no.

14. Are your parents strict?:
I'm an orphan, and my adopted mom Jill only gets pissed if I don't have good sex stories.

15. What's the last movie you saw?:
Umm...Oh, yeah. That Spanish fantasy movie. You know, the one where some guys leg gets cut off.

16. Are you a friendly person?
I'm outgoing. That doesn't always mean "friendly" in the traditional sense.

17. Are you a good driver
Yes. Very, actually. Except when drunk.

18. Do you like anyone right now?:
You mean like...like like? Like in life, or in bed?

19. Do you have any Tattoos?:
Many. Many many.

20. Ever liked someone who treated you like crap?
Hahaha!! Yes. As a matter of fact, I do right now.

21. Would you rather sleep with someone else, or alone?:
Depends on who it is. There are some people I love having in my bed, like Mary or Nicholas or something. Then there are people who snore, which I can't stand.

22. Do you consider yourself creative?:
Actually, I am a creative. See how that works?

23. What are you listening to right now?:
Whale/Horse. They're from Chicago. And they're unsigned. How cool am I right now.

24. Done anything you regret so far this week?:
I don't think so, but then again I don't remember alot of last night.

25. The highlight of your week?:
Mary was in town. Yesterday, before she left, Erica her and I sat around my apartment drinking and laughing like a bunch of idiots. That might have just been the highlight of my month.

26. Have you changed much this year?:
Yes. Alot.

27. Do you dress for style or comfort?:
I dress for work. Otherwise, I prefer my pajamas with cute flats.

28. Name someone with the same birthday as you:
Hahaha!! How about a few: Matt, Adam, Reggie, Mike, Rob, Tom, That girl who works at the tattoo parlor on 13th and Washington in SoBe, and some guy I made a coffee for one time. Oh, and Richard Gere.

29. Are you shy around the opposite gender?
Ha. Ha. Ha.

30. Ever liked someone that you didnt think you stood a chance with?:
Let's not even get into The Rev story.

31. How many people on your friends list do you know in real life?
Only Thao Ngyugen have I never met in real life.

32. Do you want to change your name?:
Actually, I have been throwing around the idea of legally changing my middle name to Moxie. How cool would that be?

33. When was the last time you saw your father?:
A couple years before he died.

35. Have you ever talked about someone behind their back?:
Definitely. But I've prolly talked way more shit to people's faces.

36. Is there an advertisement on the side of this page?:
No.

37. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone?:
My work. It was actually me, checking my messages.

38. Do you ever click on "Pop Ups" or Banners?
No.

39. How Many Drugs Have You Done In The Past Three Days?
Just caffiene and alcohol.

40. Small thing in life that pisses you off?:
When people tell me what to do in my goddamn apartment.

41. How is your hair currently styled?:
In an afro-puff. Just one.

42. Do you have anger management problems?:
Yes. Specifically when people tell me what to do in my own goddamn apartment.

45. How many people are on your contact list of your cell?:
Umm...I don't know.

46. Would you ever date anyone on your friends list?:
Bengt. Definitely Bengt. I had the exact same answer to If you had to kill someone in your top eight, who would it be? He's becoming my scapegoat.

47. Do you ever check your phone waiting for someone to call?:
Yeah, and then I'm like "goddamn it Mary!"

48. Do you get claustrophobic?
No.

49. Have you been out of the USA?
Yes.

50. Are you gay?
Not gay enough.

51. Whats the fastest you have gone in a car?:
maybe a hundred or so. Not too fast.

52. How many hearts have you broken?:
Three, tops. I think.

54. Have you ever been rejected by a crush?:
Seriously, can we not talk about The Rev.

55. Have you ever said "I Love you" and not meant it?:
No.

56. What is your last thought before you go to bed?
"If my cat is so small, how can she manage to take up the entire fucking bed?"

58. What's the meanest thing you've ever done to someone:
Became thier girlfriend. Me being someones girlfriend might just be the meanest thing anyone could to to anyone.

59. How much coffee did you have this week?:
A fucking lot.

61. Who is number 2 on your top 8?:
On Myspace? I think Shaun.

62. What cell phone service do you have?:
Service--es.

63. Something you are wearing?
Black. Go figure.

--M

6.05.2007

RE: Best I, Anonymous Ever: Excerpts from Best Short Imagined Monologue Ever

William Smith: The College-Application Essay.

BY: Justin Parker Pool I

"I am presenting you with an autobiographical account of the chain of events that incited a chaotic, topsy-turvy time in my life. I beg of you to remain within a close proximity for but a scant few moments as I recount how I metamorphosed into the heir apparent of the municipality referred to as Bel-Air, California."

and...

"I took part in nothing but a single skirmish, yet my mother became immersed in fear, at which point she commanded me to transfer my residence from her dwelling to that of my aunt and uncle in Bel-Air, California. I proceeded to hail a taxi and, upon its arrival, I made out an inscription on the license plate that read "FRESH" and was intrigued by a pair of dice draped over the rearview mirror."

You have got to be fucking kidding me. Seriously, do yourself the favor.

Also, if you ever had an eight-bit Nintendo and a sleeping bag, please, for the love of god, check this fucking shit out. My favorite line from Bo Jackson Announces His Intention to Rush for Over 500 Yards in a Single Game in Tecmo Bowl?

Definitely: "Last week, the coach had a slumber party with a few friends from school. They played two whole seasons in one night. My heart stopped, and medics worked quickly and efficiently to give me shots of adrenaline, which brought me back to life. I am not complaining; these are just the facts. I am honestly willing to die for 500 yards. And my coach is willing to let me."

[italics mine]
--M

p.s.--Sweet.

6.04.2007

Tuesday's With Moxie

S--
Here's to many things.

I had a thought today; and now is when you will realize that I am truly a writer--as this will sound literarily painterly and not at all as I may speak normally. Funny. I realize it, and yet I can't help it. As if my laptop and I can only convene in one of many ways we could.

The point? Yes. I promise, we're nearly there.

I am saying that in my future there are many "I told you so's" coming, and yet, much like usual, I really don't fucking care. No judgment--just action; and the same I reserve for you. As always. With everyone. There are stories that give fantastic examples of this that you may chose to hear or no at your leisure, like the one where I am still waiting patiently for my best friend to breach the gap of the states between us and resolve what she left here in San Francisco when she...well, left. You know some of this, I told you. Nonetheless, I wait all of these months because I know it's worth it. Now, enter you, I s'pose.

Right. The point. The short version, anyway.

You told me recently that (context aside) that you are oft seen as dangerous, and yet, truth be known, you sleep with a stuffed animal. You're not the only one--people make thier own assumptions of me constantly. The one big thing that people most often assume of me is that I'm inherently flighty even though I'm intrinsically and intensely loyal. Meaning that I am loyal to a fault. More often than not it's a huge fault.

So let this be one more mistake.

As funnily (yeah dude, that's an actual word) poignant as it only somewhat is, I'll take some inspiration from one of your favorite vices.
I'll call you on Tuesday and every and many subsequent Tuesday's to follow, and my hope is that on one of these days of my calling you'll actually chose to answer your phone. And then you just might realize that there are times when we all feel a bit out of control, and yet there are also people who don't give a damn where you're at right now, but rather care most about who you chose or chose not to be in some carefully undetermined amount of time.
Take care, please, because much like you, I aim to do the same in my own way.
Believe.
--M


[sending...]

p.s.--Apologies today go to Cynthia, my fourth (according to my site tracker) most avid reader. Accept this as my solemn vow to never again go a month without posting on my rediculous and beautiful blog.

6.01.2007

Nuptuals, and also other asst.

Erica and Miguel got married last Tuesday.

It was absolutely beautiful.

The rest?

Ask my sister Roxie, she'll tell you the whole thing, but for now, I can't even talk about it.
Funny, huh? Miranda Moure doesn't want to talk about it. Go fucking figure.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go contemplate the events of the past week with a Henry's Private Reserve bearing a flexi-straw from the comfort of my kitchen floor for a month.

That's right--a month. Last time I did this? Jesus, it seems so long since Independance day so long ago in the summer in Seattle, dusk finding me with fireworks blazing overhead as I was driving my Volvo south on I-5 balling my fucking eyes out. And now I'm like fuck--here I am, about to retire to the cold linolem again over something that started my first Fourth of July right here in San Francisco; my unbelievable hangover, my drive to Berkely to retrieve my cellphone, all of my traipsing about the old neighborhood from barbeque to barbeque, but safely tucked into bed by 10. Huh.
And I'm like--FUCK, I mean...

Oh fuck, now I'm fucking talking about it.

Okay, here's the fucking thing: I was supposed to have given up all of this "each one save one" bullshit. Why? Because it never fucking works out right. Because [I think] I do it for the wrong reasons. Because after giving up a year and a half of my life to all of that shit and finally making it to Lower Haight, I barely escaped to The Tenderloin with only a couple of hundred dollars, two pairs of underwear, a jacket and my notebooks.

And I guess I was just looking around now--looking at my fantastic fucking apartment, and all of my "stuff" and whatever I've fucking managed to build back since then, and I was like "Fuck it. I'm awesome--and I have something to offer."

I was right--I do. I have alot to offer. I just never thought I would end up giving away what I did.

If you'd like to know, my apartment is still intact. Same cat, same laptop, same bees, same silent expansive space with only me to fill it--all of that is here. What's gone?

I don't know. Resolve. Drive. A bunch of things I haven't thought of yet.
My little brother will be furious with me.
At least my sister will listen.
And who gets to town tomorrow?
That's right--Mary Star--and so we will drink wine and take Vicodin well into the wee hours when everything is so static and it feels as if this night might go on forever with me in the good graces of someone I love so fucking much, so very fucking much.

Thank god she's home to share my kitchen floor with me.
--M