Forward

If success were not a measure of the things one has acheived, but rather the dreams of what we would have…
perhaps then we could readily see the beauty solely in being.

Intro to “All The Things I Didn’t Do”

So I’m using this section to post pieces from the larger project that I’m calling, “All The Things I Didn’t Do.” It’s a writing endeavor that’s been on the brain for a while and I’m trying to get it together. The idea is that it’s a large piece of writing that surrounds certain themes in my life I’ve discovered through countless hours of introspection as well as a fairly interesting set of experiences.

So I’ll try and figure out a way to make the posts be somewhat ordered or maybe coherent in their own. I don’t know. If you’re reading something and you don’t get it…it’s not my problem. All I can tell you is the larger project is called “All The Things I Didn’t Do” and it’s pretty much self-explanatory in the title and so all the little things I post here are part of that. And I can’t yatter about it to much or I’ll ebd up talking myself out of it. Go Figure. Alright…

The Twinkly Tinkle… A Suggestion to Everyone Who Urinates

Nobody likes it when you are in a public restroom and there is pee on the seat.

Don’t hover.

Just sit.

If we all just sat on the seat then there would never be pee on the seat.

And if you must hover in fear that my butt-cheek may have left a remnant of some sort than wipe off the seat after you’ve urinated all over it.

It’s like when we all want peace and then kill each other to get there.

We can all have a tinkle that twinkles people.

Sit on that.

Bumper to Bummer

Los Angeles, California: commonly referred to as the entertainment capital of the world.

It took me an hour and 23 minutes to drive 11.8 miles the other day.

When I approached the thing responsible for the hold-up I discovered that it was nothing… a mere stranded
pickup truck and Mexican guy scratching his head on the side of the freeway.

Had everyone on the freeway simply whizzed by …we could have collectively acknowledged the poor guy’s plight and carried on to our destinations. But to my dismay…one inconsiderate driver had to slow-down and gawk at him. Is someone hurt? Is there blood? NO. Ok, is he on fire? Is he transporting illegal substances? Nope. Oh oh…Is he cute? Should I stop and help? NO way.

Oh please…by all means driver number one….don’t stop to help. Just stop to stare and opinion-ate and set off a chain reaction.

Car two: Dude why are you stopping?

Car 5: Fucking Mexicans…Get outta my country.

Car 12: Did he hit something?

Car 28: Jesus man don’t slam on your breaks.

Car 29: Oh great..fucking CHP.

Car 37: Is there an accident?

Car 38: Is there a lot of blood and guts involved in this accident?

Car: 46: This better be good.

Car 96: God it must be really bad.

Car 100: Hey genius trying to cut me off in bumper to bumper traffic isn’t gonna get you there any faster.

Car 101: Hey idiot why can’t you just let me in, do you not see my cignal. It’s not like letting me in is gonna make you go any slower.

Car 113: Time to smoke a blunt.  Hey baby…

Car 114: Great now that guy is gonna stare at me and I can’t switch lanes

Me: How much you wanna bet that it’s not even a fucking accident. What if it is? I’m a jerk. Do I have enough gas to sit in traffic for an hour? I have to get to work!! I wish I had a drink. This is why people drink and drive. Did I ash in this cup? Ew. It’s fucking warm and flat. Why can’t I clean my car…ever? I want to be sympathetic and sincerely hope no one died but what the hell? Maybe it’s construction. Why are they always working on the freeway? Maybe those fires will burn down all the freeways and we can start over. I just wanna ride a horse on the freeway. Would I get arrested? Maybe it would poop on someone’s mercedes. Who cleaned the poop when it was just horse and buggy? Anyone? Can horses run and poop at the same time? fuuuuccckk!!! I’m gonna be late.

One hour and Twenty Three minutes.

Entertaining indeed.

Journals Are For Pansies

I have tried to keep a journal.

Writing…sketching…doesn’t matter. Only, it does matter.

I get like 3 pages in or 10 sometimes and then I can’t do it anymore.

So a few weeks or months go by and I try to do it again…only I can’t pick up where I left off in the old journal cause I already fucked it up and I’m trying to start afresh. And I can’t rip out the botched pages because then it’s like I’m cheating.

So I buy another one.

I have like 30 partially used journals.

A Repsonse to KCRW After Subscribing

After subscribing to KCRW a week ago I got an email asking me to elaborate on why I chose to subscribe. I’m sure everyone gets that email but here was my response.

Connie,

 

            You ask me why I joined kcrw and how do I feel about it now? You like stories…right. Ok well…here it is.

 

I have always been a rebel. Well…a dreamer. A liar really. I have always been a liar. 

Put yourself if you will in the shoes of a 12 year old girl circa 1992, shoes smudging the windshield of my mothers car as she drove me to school. For like….an hour. My feet on the dash and the seat tilted back. And NPR on the radio. Why? Why? Couldn’t she appreciate the importance of brooding over The Cure? Hell even classic rock was better than this boring, self indulgent snobbery of a newscast. Everyone had and accent except Robert Seigel and when they did play music it was….well it wasn’t Bowie. I will never listen to this honky no matter how much you tell me I will appreciate it. 

 

Liar.

 

My sense of memory is quite mysterious and NPR has done wonders for keeping my childhood etched in there. The sound of someone’s voice on the radio brings me back in the basement with my dad…fussing with tools and listening his laugh bellowing to a cough as sawdust plumes into the stale air. I heard Click and Clack not too long ago and I noticed I was getting weepy. Thanks a lot you jack-asses! I have to remember to call my dad more often.

 

 Prairie Home Companion in the kitchen with my mom baking chocolate chip cookies. My dad coming in to tease her. 

“Peter…Peter!!”  She would snap at him and smile. And why do they ALL have to have walnuts?? And my dad dancing a jig to a little tune by the band as Garrison Keeler reminds us all to….well I guess to do exactly what we were doing. Oh and eat powdermilk biscuits.

 

Somehow my fondest recollections of my parents were times when the radio was on. 

 

Nowadays…my folks are one the east coast and I live here in LA going on six years now. 

 

I listen to KCRW whenever I’m driving…or in my studio painting. I have visions of being on All Things Considered. I’ve interviewed myself in preparation. 

 

I listen to every program…even the ones I don’t like. I talk back to my radio. I turn up the volume. 

 

During the summer drive….Ruth Seymour finally got to me. She’s says an “s” like no one I’ve ever met. Including her. I don’t have to meet her. She’s right there. And the bookworm guy occasionally giggles.  And Warren….Warren has the most magnificent monotone ever. All those voices filling my space and blanketing me with something that vaguely reminds me of home. All the while educating me, touching me….making me feel like I’m an adult. 

 

So i pledged.

Five dollars a month.

 

But I lied. 

 

My account is overdrawn. $373.22…in the red. I am hoping that that five dollars will slide under the banker’s radar every month. That KCRW won’t hate me. But maybe it’ll get me an interview on All Things Considered. 

 

Michelle Norris:

Now we come to a story about a young woman who has a knack for telling well-intended lies. Cate Nelson is a down and out artist trying to survive in pursuit of her dream…to be able to live by her brush alone. After making a contribution to KCRW this summer…her payments had fallen short. So I stopped by to pay her a visit and find out just exactly why she was so determined to donate….

 

hi cate.

 

Cate:

hi Michelle.

 

Michelle:

So I see you really are painting up a storm. Now I understand that you made a contribution to KCRW this summer. Tell me about that.

 

Cate:

yes I made a five dollar a month contribution.

 

MN:

and your acount is overdrawn?  May I ask how much?

 

C:

Like $340

 

MN: 

So you sort of told a little fib when you subscribed to KCRW. 

 

C;

Sort of.

 

MN:

The economic climate is tough these days. I imagine especially so for the arts. Tell me….what made you decide to subscribe despite your current pitfalls?

 

C;

The spitting raspy “s” of Ruth Seymour. And also…my love for public radio. It helps me paint and think and rememeber that there’s a world out there. I have good intentions!!

 

MN:

Well you know what they say…the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

 

C:

Good thing I don’t believe in hell.

 

MN:

Well Cate…thank you so much for inviting me into your studio and for your well-intended lie. Good luck with your art.

 

C:

Thanks MIchelle.

5.24.09

Topics of discussion at one certain social function at friends house. Evening 830-ish.

-the definition of babushka

- dip sauce

- unitards

-tranny tit-jobs

- reality show whores who question ass-cleanliness

- going green, as they say

- persimmon ripeness as relative to its sweetness

- while kickin it on the porch and admiring the view: “so is that the 5 freeway?”

-

Reunions Made Easy

When going to pick up your best friend from Vegas whom you haven’t seen in something like 2 years (maybe more?) …there are a few things to keep in mind.

1. You haven’t changed. The $120 you had to borrow to get there is evidence.

2. She hasn’t changed. She needs you to use your borrowed $120 to come get her.

3. The fear you feel in introducing her to your current boyfriend and his nice suburban house is imminent. Remember, it’s not your fault his color of choice is cream and the guest room smells funny. Tell her the pot is stashed in the small basket of papers by the kitchen table. It can make the cream more…creamy.

4. Be prepared that she might want to steal back the things she gave you when she left. Either…hide them. Or tell her the truth, that you need them as a memento and that you WILL hang those vintage lamps in the new house once you convince your boyfriend to paint it with color. Just hide them.

5. You have to convince yourself that the 5 hour drive is worth it. Even if you are scared your boyfriend will decide to leave you while your gone. And you might arrive only to sleep on the floor of her newly- married -cousin’s mother’s hotel room. And you might get stuck being the DDI (Designated Driver to the Irresponsible) all over again while she sleeps off a hangover on the ride back. But it’s worth it.

6. Don’t gamble the $120. You’ll need it for gas and food and she will inevitably attempt to convince you otherwise with that coy little smirk and you will be very tempted to say Fuck it and out you will be of any return gas fare. But you two always manage to get help when desperate so….what the fuck gamble the money. 

7. You will undoubtedly smile more, laugh more, carry-on like schoolgirls, and try and take over Los Angeles with your team of coolness. Remember that it is only temporary and that you are still un-cool. 

8. You will try to convince her to take back the stuff she left with you to HOLD, independent of the stuff she left you to HAVE, and she will most likely find a reason why she can’t take it at the moment and you will be stuck with a giant box of shit in your studio for another 2 1/2 years.

9. She will be subtly self-aware of her body and it’s recently- gained- since- moved Oregon poundage and as a good friend you tell her that’s what she gets for working as a cookie baker in winter in Oregon. Oh and that she is totally beautiful and to shut up.

10. Although you are secretly waiting for this best of friends to kidnap you…she is here for a visit. She will see other friends. She will leave in two weeks. She will tell you she loves you and …she will still be the best of friends even after she leaves.

 

And you will need to figure out your own shit.

A Letter to “All Things Considered” concerning Pirates

Below is the letter I submitted to NPR’s “All Things Considered” after hearing the word “pirate” so many times it was not only ridiculous….but laughable that there isn’t a more suitable word to describe these…..well anyway read on.

Consider This: Redefining the Pirate to Protect our Youth

To Whom It May Concern,

As an avid listener of NPR and its programming, it has come to my attention that the word “pirate” ought be placed under scrutiny (or face mutiny if you will) by a more appropriate verbiage.
Pirate is no longer the one-eyed swashbuckler of boyhood fantasy. It has become, as it pertains to the newsroom, a term for a type of terrorist. The youthful wonderment spawned in the likes of Peter Pan and Captain Jack Sparrow has been dashed by the everyday use of the term “pirate” as it relates to current events.

So… without going overboard here…
I propose adding the following two words to your Report-oire.

First if we change terrorist to terrarist it can mean Terrorist of the Land. Derived from terra meaning earth.

Then we ought to coin the term marerist to describe Terrorist of the Sea. Derived from mare meaning sea.

In doing so we can save pirates for Halloween costumes and the peg-legged scalliwag fantasies of our youth thereby protecting innocence and imagination while preserving NPRs unwavering respect and commitment to the art of reporting.

Sincerely: Cate Nelson Founder of P.I.R.A.T.E.
Pretty Idiotic Rebels Advocating Thoughtful Etymology

What’s The Deal?

Well the deal is this…
According to psychologist George Miller, the human brain has the capacity to process seven bits of information at a time. Well…I think that’s just a bunch of honkey because mine seems to be processing something more…which has led me to this blog.
The title: “No Vacancy but…There’s Room Available” is in response to Miller’s theory…Apparently my brain is full…but somehow there seems to be always room for more guests. Some of them, certainly uninvited. So here, amongst the other thousands of self-indulgent bloggers…I will make little tidbit remarks to help flush the toilet. And to give a brief explanation of the term “cognidiot”…logically it is a combo of the word “cognition” (thought) and “idiot” (…idiot)…something like an over-thinking jackass. I like to think of it as genius.
So the deal is, essentially, read it and weep. Whether those tears are joyful or painful…well that’s your call