The Albuquerque airport has an excellent skylounge. You don't need to be part of the Admirals Club or anything like that to get in. I'm sitting on an adobe inspired chair looking at an American Airlines jet to the sounds of a little mophead carpet monster screaming about what gate they are leaving from. The kid is stoked beyond repair about getting on a plane. I share his enthusiasm but I don't have the energy to express it.

Operation puppy delivery went without so much as a bump. The fluffball did do a bit of whining during take off but it was mostly offset by screaming children. Children and airports are a combination much like baking soda and vinegar. Very cool for things like enthusiasm and science experiements and very bad for others like peace and quiet and douches. And that is the wisdom I will depart in this sweet missive. Looking forward to getting back to LA.



Originally uploaded by kayekilla.

As you can see, the results of my testing clearly show I am highly allergic to dogs.


Cultural sounds abound. I am in the Glendale library trying to type to the mellow sounds of a whispering female Armenian accent. Sounds like a girly choo-choo train recording slowed to 13rpms. I stopped in the bathroom on the way in and a middle school age Asian girl in a navy short skirt private school uniform was practicing singing “I get weak” by SWV. That is Sisters With Voices for those of you that weren’t at the Arts, Beats, and Eats in Pontiac, 1992. And now that I have my headphones plugged in, Vivaldi’s four seasons is on the classical radio station and it’s still spring even though it’s fall.
If you can, drop your pants and go see "The Assassination of Jesse James by soandso..." It's worth full price admission to the Arclight. I like westerns that take place in the cold west, like "McCabe and Mrs. Miller." This one is more sparse. I especially enjoyed the use of white space, eye color, and diagetic sound.

I went to a birthday party last night at The Griffin or Griffith. It's new and it's in Atwater Village. I am astounded every time I go out on that side of AV, which is less than three quarters of a mile from my side on Glendale Blvd, how many rockabilly people are out and about. Where do you all live? I don't see you at Von's. The birthday party was extra special because it was a milestone birthday - the big three OH. Parting gifts were framed photos of the birthday boy in other milestone moments. The one I got was of him recycling.

I can't stop my visual media fest today long enough to write about much else. I have to catch part of the new Ken Burns deal. I am susceptible to hypnosis by slow pans of black and white photographs so it wouldn't be a wild deal if I ended up giving 14 hours this week to see the whole thing.


I'm writing this from the Ritz in Marina Del Ray. It's so nice to be on the west side watching 'Ratatoui'and drinking some Pino. The pino is in honor of the dear departed B who left LA a few weeks ago for the east side. I don't know how people can leave this place after getting a taste of paradise but she insists that not having to drive everywhere is a luxury. Sounds like just another line we say out loud to ourselves to convince ourselves of things that deep down we feel need convincing.

I think public transpo is a big robbery haven. A claustrophobic tube where you just sit waiting to get picked off by the crazed armed unlawful citizens of the world. I believe we should all be transported by hayrides. A sensible low-emissions tractor pulling a wooden trailer full of hay and people. It's out in the open, natural, and fresh. Isn't that what we really want?


My mini bottle of lotion exploded on the plane. That is my punishment for not declaring it as a liquid at airport security.

I went to Wisconsin looking for love and I found all these mushrooms. They remind me of the kind of polyester stuff I used to freak to find at thrift stores. Coffee and flour canisters, macrame wall hangings, and crusty half used hippy candles.