Lazy bum

So I havent really done any writing for others to read not since school. I mean I can muster a tweet or a facebook brain murmur but not full on sentences with grammar and coherence. I feel like I should apologise for this. So here is my sorry:

Sorry.

A boyfriend once told me sorry is a sign of weakness. Another said I say it too much and should practice not saying it. I've been trying it out and its bloody hard. I meant that one though. Well actually the more I think about it I dont really care if Ive spelt something wrong or missed a ,;:'"!?. I mean didnt stop Burroughs rambling on.

This blog, this particular post is my admission to my laziness. I havent played in ages. I sang at a gig last week but Ive really taken my foot off the gas and have been enjoying LA so much. Drinking like a trooper with my buddies, surfing the buses, getting into cars with the nicest strangers, dressing as a Japanese Tippi Hedren from the birds. (not quite what I was aiming for Halloween but I still looked good) So yes basically having a great time. I am aiming to leave in 2 days time to Austin lets see if that happens eh!

The Vlad Straw

Vladmir is from Mexico. Vlad the Mexican, the gentleman, the ladies man, the homophobic, a dead ringer for Andy Kauffman, daddys boy (who is very upset with Daddy who took away his Lamborghini recently). Vlad is a great guy and with focus and some English lessons he will be a great actor but fuck me he is a bizzare wee thing who will make you laugh and also feel soooooo frustrated. We pair up for scenes together nearly everytime. I drew The Vlad Straw.

Los Angeles you got me.

I walk past The Lee Strasberg School of Acting. There's space on the course, affordable (its amazing what you convince yourself of) something I love and I believe I'm good at. After parting with some (fucking loads of) cash, I enrol.

Lee Strasberg's Method is not an imitation of what you might think the character is, it is you, engaging your memory of past events and of all your senses. Touch, taste, smell... the character becomes you.
The course is insightful and inspiring. Although I draw 'the Vlad straw' (see blog) I fucking love this training. There is a lot of talking and closing my eyes and feeling and crying and becoming an animal and teachers saying fuck ALOT. There are many jumped up actors hanging around looking like complete pricks. But you know what I LOVE IT HERE.

San Diego go go go!

After realising I have a sweet deal with my naked house mate Aaron with free accomodation. I leave my big bag and head down to San Diego with a modest one for a few days. I board the train which rides right next to the coast and the views choke me up a little. My adventure, my American trip.

I find a venue to play at Ocean Beach the Brighton of San D, with major hippy vibes and no commercial businesses. I play, it feels wonderful-the whole room falls silent.

After getting jerked around by a various elements of promises and thick as shit bouncers I find my own way to a hostel. Meet a lovely guy who confesses to having a dog lick peanut butter from his balls, we have a few drinks and I head off for a nice sleep.

I encounter many more strange people, ofcourse! A homeless chap who tells me

'we sold $75,000 of black afghanistan, took a hit of mescalin and travelled to Canada'

Perfect. A gambler, a charmer. I gave him some money and wished him well.

My few days in San Diego were charming, I biked around, met great people, played two shows and I head back to LA.

Sacred Fools Theatre Company

A theatre company in LA which produces 4 shows a year, monthly cabaret open mics, weekly 5x10 minute shows where the 3 best are voted for and they progress to the next week. Tickets are from $0-20. The company members write, direct, act, stage design, manage. Drinks are donation based only. You might begin to suss out that this excites me no end. Ive been several times, performed and danced with cast members. They are brilliant. I wish I could be a Sacred Fool too.

Couchsurfing

After dragging my case up a hill, Glassel Park has a strong Mexican community with smells of tortilla chips coming from each home. I even hear a Mariachi trumpet from a garage, I smile and quickly forget Im sweating, regretting bringing an enormous suitcase and wondering who the hell is letting me stay on their couch for free.
I get stung by a wasp, barked at by many a tiny dog and eventually arrive at my new home. I am greeted by Aaron. Aaron is wearing a long flowing green skirt and a moustache which is the entire width of his face. And nothing else.
Its okay Davina keep an open mind stop your judging eyes.
I pull my suitcase into the small bedroom filled with dvds sit down and get to know him.
He likes to be nude, he wears no shoes. He NEVER wears shoes. And you know what he's a bloody delight. He can fucking talk me to sleep and awake again and I see all of him on a daily basis. But hands down he's a kind soul and I have been here nearly 3 weeks now.

Grand Canyon

Its big.

Little girl lost

Maybe not so little, quite much older than most at the Hostel Cat which resembles a Mexican prison. I feel crappy. What am I doing? I should have a job! My music is terrible. I'm a failure. Arrrghhh.
Although I spent a glorious amount of time playing 25c pinball machines aging from the 50's up until a fun Family Guy with a mini Stewie pinball within the pinball. PINBALL! I love it if you havent guessed.
I pour my heart out to my friend Laura online, realise I'm being a negative dick got me pecker on the 45 and get ready for tonights open; mic located miles away ofcourse! Google maps takes me to an animal hospital and eventually I find Money Plays Lounge. And guess what? Its a great venue. A proper pub with locals. The night is excellently hosted, filmed and promoted. I play, I get a free meal from a young lad at his school the next day (yes, weird) and I cheer the fuck up. HOORAY!

Viva Las Vegas

So I have been itching the itch to come to Las Vegas for quite sometime. One day, one day. A bit like bothering to book Glastonbury or getting round to appreciating The Smiths. One day it will happen and I bathe in enlightenment through this hedonly experience...
Now maybe because I have my "time of the month". Time of the month?! Its certainly not my favourite thing in a month. Payday is more my kinda thing I guess. Mind you I could see it that my eggs make me rich. The most feminine. Creator, potential to make a human person being! My god arent women great. I would like you all to stop and think about how great women are and how we have slowly overcome sexist BULLSHIT even though sadly women are the worst oppressors of them all!
I digress.
What I was trying to get at that I am not, have not had my wild Vegas experience. But I guess thats okay, on my own, not much money and the fact that I'm reminded of Blackpool is probably why. Arriving early at Planet Hollywood to perform I quickly notice the bar sucks, I look at people endlessly staring into gambling graphics hoping they'll win big. Pressing the button over and over. No skill. All luck. Girls dance on the bar, women clad in corsets and a "I want gratitude" attitude. I slink off meet Dumbledore (walking stick n all) go to a Burlesque show which I walked out of. The only other shows Ive walked out of was Robin Hood:Men in Tights and the band Doves. Oh and Outbreak as I was stoned and thought it was a surfing movie. Not a graphic killing disease film spreading out of control. I return sing a few songs, compliments soothe my soul a little. I grab a lift from a nice guy I've been chatting to...until he tells me he has a gun is pocket...no no not the age old chat up line. A loaded weapon, ready to use if needs be. 'An armed society is a polite society' drift out of his mouth into my tired exasperated ears. I want to go home. I try to remain open minded to the people I meet but this frankly upsets me. Vegas has not started well.