Coke Talk Of The Day

This past year, I fell in love with another city, which for the moment shall remain nameless. I spent some time there visiting friends over the summer, and on a whim, I found an adorable little apartment and put down a deposit.

When I got back to Los Angeles, I packed up my shit, tied up my loose ends, kissed everyone goodbye, and hit the fucking road.

It wasn’t difficult. I thought I might be emotional as I drove away, but I wasn’t. Not a bit. Los Angeles isn’t a sentimental town, and the wild and shimmering version that belonged to me, it ended years ago. I’ve had plenty of time to let go. I still love Los Angeles, but I’m over it. This was the perfect time to leave.

I’m still getting used to my new surroundings. This place that I’ve found is beautiful and mysterious and deeply satisfying. I’m happy here, but this city doesn’t belong to me yet. It probably never will. For now I’m the one who belongs to it, and I’m content to yield to all the raw and uncertain adventure.

Auld Lang Syne (Live at the Fillmore East)

Auld Lang Syne (Live at the Fillmore East)
Jimi Hendrix


Through a strangely serendipitous set of events, my brand new, totally inappropriate, never-gonna-happen crush is now my date for New Years Eve.

I should be nervous. I should be downright giddy, but I’m not. Instead, I feel deeply contented. It’s the last day of 2015, and I’m filled with a mellow anticipation that is undoubtedly the most pleasant emotion I’ve felt all year.

It may turn out to be nothing, or it may turn out to be everything. Either way, I’m going to enjoy my evening.

Happy New Year, everyone. Tomorrow I will have lots to tell you.

2016 is going to be very special.

Coke Talk of the Day

The best part of having been kicked off tumblr is that now Dear Coquette has a blossoming, vibrant comments section. (I technically had comments before, but interesting discussions inevitably peeled off into reblog oblivion.)

I’ve really enjoyed watching this new layer of communication grow over the past few months. I gotta admit, I’m kinda proud of how thoughtful and positive everyone has been.

You guys rock.

Coke Talk of the Day

Another one of my exes is leaving Los Angeles. It’s not something I’d usually let bother me, except that I see a pattern forming here. This is the fourth time.

A year or so after our relationship ends, my old boyfriends just pick up their entire lives and move to a completely new city. I don’t know if that says anything about me. I suppose it might, because I’m the only common thread with what are otherwise very different dudes.

I’ve got exes stashed in San Francisco, New York, New Orleans, and now Nashville. I suppose it’s a good thing. I’m still close with all of them, but not in an everyday sort of way, so it’ll be nice to hang with them when I travel. The bright side is that I have four very cool cities with safe places I can crash.

Hmm. Los Angeles seems to be losing it’s gravity more and more every year.

Coke Talk of the Day

I went on a bad date last night. It was with the kind of guy who describes his loft as industrial, yet clearly has never worked a day of hard labor in his life. Not that he was a bad person, just a little too dainty for my tastes.

He took me to a low-rent art show, the kind where disapproving gallerinas refuse to pour more than two sips of wine into cheap plastic cups. On the bright side, the people-watching was epic. There was no crowd control whatsoever, and the tiny gallery was choked with hipster lunatics with zero interpersonal skills. Watching them constantly violate each other’s personal space was far more interesting than anything on the walls.

The face-palmiest moment of the evening came when I learned that one of the show’s artists was my date’s ex-girlfriend, a fairly important bit of information he chose to share with me right as we were walking into the gallery.

It was pretty obvious he was using me as arm candy, which normally I don’t mind, but I absolutely cannot stand being bamboozled, and dropping an ex bomb at the doorway is one of the oldest bamboozles in the book.

The dude’s fate was sealed when I realized I liked hanging out with his ex more than him. Turns out, she was the cool one. We bonded over how little either of us gave a shit about the date.

So yeah, I guess it wasn’t a total loss. She and I traded numbers. We might hang out. I dunno. I’ve built friendships in this town on a lot less than a bad date with someone’s ex.

Coke Talk Of The Day

I’m feeling kind of vulnerable at the moment.

There were all sorts of things I was supposed to be doing this past month, and I’ve been neglecting them. I know I have. Whatever sins of procrastination I may have committed these past thirty days were necessary, though.

I’ve been transitioning out of a romantic relationship. I know that sounds like a fancy way to say I’ve been going through a break-up, but I’ve gone through break-ups before, and this has been an unfamiliar experience.

I suppose the result is the same in the end, but this time the process has been so much more introspective. I’ve been alone through it in ways that I’ve never been alone before. Not lonely, but completely on my own.

The strangest part about it is that not all that much has changed. Of course, things aren’t the same anymore, but they aren’t that much different either. I still have someone in my life that I love very much, but things are platonic now.

The transition from romantic to platonic was painful, but somehow natural. I still haven’t wrapped my head around how it happened, because it’s something that I used to think was next to impossible.

It did happen, though.

I had to take some time away from him at first, but we’ve since started hanging out again. The very first time he introduced me to other people as his “best friend,” it was jarring to hear the words. Still, they were completely accurate. It was a label that finally fit who we were to each other.

I thought it would upset me more, but it didn’t. I want to be his best friend. I want somebody in my life who’s as smart as me and sees the world like I do and can talk as much shit as I can. It’s an honor to be his best friend. Maybe that’s what we were all along.

I’m not to the point yet where I can high-five him when he gets laid, but I think I’ll be there soon enough. In the meantime, I’m completely undateable. I just don’t give a shit right now. The holidays are coming up, and I still have all this work I need to focus on, and I think it’s enough that I’m finally ready to crawl out of my own head and push forward with the next phase of my life.

We’ll see where it takes me.

Coke Talk of the Day

I woke up this morning in a fog thick as soup, an extended version of that final stage of sleep where dreams still have more clarity than whatever reality you’re facing. Some part of my conscious mind had latched onto a key phrase that seemed very important, and I had to memorialize it immediately.

I reached over to my computer still open on the floor next to my bed, and I hit ⌘V on the keyboard, fully expecting it to paste my thoughts directly onto the screen.

Nothing happened. I was confused for more than a second until it dawned on me that even if the technology did somehow exist to bridge a direct neural link to my MacBook Pro, I had forgotten to hit ⌘C first.

I quickly typed out the phrase that was floating in my head, one that dissolved into the ether in the very moment I wrote it. Satisfied, but still not quite awake, I rolled out of bed and began my morning routine.

When I came back to my computer freshly scrubbed and fogless, I looked down to find the cursor still blinking at the end of my dream sentence:

Diagram the gem of the eternal tides.

Yeah. I have no idea what it means either. The only thing I remember is that it felt terribly significant at the time. Still, I dig it. It’s as though I received a mysterious order from my subconscious.

I love that just over an hour ago, I existed in a state where the command to “diagram the gem of the eternal tides” made perfect logical sense as part of some grander dreamscape narrative, and in that unconscious pastiche of people and places that promptly receded into the depths of some black and unrecoverable trench, one tiny little sentence managed to crystalize and become solid, the words dropping like fresh die-cast metal into my waking life, still glowing red from their transition.

I love that every night a whole other hidden world flashes its momentary existence through our synapses. I love that it’s a part of us, but it’s somehow not ours to keep. I love that we occasionally catch glimpses and fragments, and while most of the time they may mean absolutely nothing, every once in a while it can still feel like they’re dripping with magic.

Coke Talk of the Morning

I just woke up from a vivid dream where Lindsay Lohan picked me up in a black Chevy Suburban. We both drove around a post-apocalyptic hellscape drinking coffee and patiently waiting our turn to rainbow mind-meld in preparation for battle with time-eaters from that one Steven King novel.

At one point, I had to jump out of the truck and rescue Shia LeBeouf before his downed airplane burst into flames. He sat comfortably in my lap in the front passenger seat like a napping toddler. It’s not that he was short. It’s more like he was 5/8 scale, a sort of miniature fighter pilot, still unconscious and wearing the exact same flight suit that George W. Bush wore for that aircraft carrier photo-op before his Mission Accomplished speech.

Anyway, Lindsay got jealous that I had a miniature Shia LeBeouf in my lap, and so she refused to rainbow mind-meld with me so we could continue our battle with the time-eaters. Instead, she pretended to spill her coffee, and I made a passive aggressive comment about her nails, despite the fact that the time-eaters were rapidly approaching and everything around us was being devoured into a haunted void of nothingness.

We sped away as fast as our Chevy Suburban could take us, all the while relaying back to central command that we weren’t engaging the enemy due to some petty drama over a boy. Central command wasn’t the least bit surprised.

Eventually, I awoke from this dream to find my television on mute and tuned to a Proactiv infomercial. It was oddly comforting. I actually laid there and watched it for quite some time without changing the channel or turning up the volume.

So yeah, I was supposed to go to the gym this morning, but instead I stayed in bed and dream journaled this stupid post.

Have a lovely day, everyone.

Coke Talk of the Day

Hatefuck Tuesday went a little awry. Not in the typical manner — nobody’s feelings got hurt or anything. (Feelings? Who the fuck has feelings?) No, this bit of angry afternoon delight got dirty the old fashioned way — he knocked my period loose a few days early.

You see, this guy isn’t really an ex. He’s just some self-absorbed asshole I dated for a hot minute longer than I otherwise would because he happens to have the biggest dick I’ve ever seen in my life.

I’m not a size queen, but even I appreciate the novelty of a cock that cartoonishly large. Truly, it is a fearsome thing to behold. It’s so big, every time he sticks it in it’s like getting fisted by Peter Dinklage.

Don’t ask me for exact dimensions. I don’t know them. I would never ask a big dicked man for his measurements in the same way I would never ask a famous person for an autograph. That’s a basic bitch move, and egos like that don’t deserve the satisfaction.

Anyways, he pounded me bloody. It’s like my cervix went three rounds with Mike Tyson. I completely ruined his sheets, which I consider an added bonus, because afterwards I just got up and left while he had to deal with cleaning up a crime scene.

It was glorious. I left my mark in every way possible, didn’t even say goodbye, and then drove through In-N-Out for a little hatefuck afterglow animal style indulgence.

Not a bad way to spend a lunch hour.

Coachella Talk of the Day

  • Hot shit outfits *check*
  • Cute bikini situation *check*
  • Comfortable boots *check*
  • Good luck sandals *check*
  • Sunglasses I can’t lose *check*
  • Sunglasses I can lose *check*
  • All the drugs *check*
  • All-access wristband *check*


My ride gets here in 20 minutes. This is better than Christmas morning.


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