Staying Cool




Good evening,

Past week was pretty crazy. No time to elaborate but I want to thank the wonderful individuals who have gifted me with lovely new clothes, a remarkable AC unit, and stunning candle tower from my Amazon Wishlist. Thank you soooooo much!!!! Some challenges have arisen recently but thus far I’m holding my own and look forward to reporting back here with news regarding an ongoing, non work-related project which has captured my heart.

Above pics show me (and fellow dancer afloat in background) staying cool during a 2008 shoot for Wild Goose Cabaret calendar. Think I can just see good friend/former Goose manager Rainier striding behind me in this pic:


Feel free to e-mail Rainier at for remaining copies of calendar or other classic Wild Goose memorabilia.


Funny how some pics just take me back in time..

Thanks again to the generous souls who made my day with the awesome gifts!! AC unit in particular is helping me stay cool under pressure right now. Hope everyone is having a great weekend.

XO Tanya

P.S. Have embarked on another round of shooting but will answer post comments as soon as I can.  Many thanks to all of you who have contributed comments. I always enjoy reading them.






I meant to check in sooner but have immersed myself in an endeavor which will keep me busy through the weekend.  Earlier tonight I returned home, sat at desk with bowl of Cheerios, saw my cat Santoro gallop through the air like winged cavalry. He seemed to be chasing a bug. A moment later I turned to see him on my bed foaming at the mouth. copious amounts of white liquid pouring over his chin and chest. I ran to him, he ran under the bed. Finally I reached him, grabbed a towel to mop fluid off face and body. He smelled like peppermint. Terrified by surreal episode I found name of 24 hour emergency clinic whose receptionist immediately suggested that I bring him in. Too scared to cry I prayed in the car, holding one hand on steering wheel and other on top of Santoro’s carrying case. Even his distressed meows sounded weak and unrecognizable. Then he went silent. Staring out windshield I used right hand to unzip carrier, stroked soft fur til Santoro popped out like Houdini and tried to escape. Relieved by his resilience I wrestled him back into case.

To make long story short emergency vet thinks Santoro ingested something, possibly a bug, which made him temporarily ill. All his vital signs looked good. Vet gave him subcutaneous fluids, anti-nausea medication, and suggested that I feed him a small amount of food at 1am to see how he handled it. She had no explanation for the peppermint smell of substance which had emitted from Santoro’s mouth. As we motored home I noticed a neon shamrock winking in the distance. Upon approach Irish tavern looked half empty. I felt like sitting down at the bar and putting Santoro on the stool next to me but we kept driving. Several hours after arriving home Santoro hungrily ate some food and now seems perfectly fine. So grateful.

Btw.. whilst waiting for 1am I took the opportunity to Google “insect that smells like peppermint”. Before you decide I’m crazy check this out. Too tired to think more about it now  but I will return in 2 hours to ponder issue, move car out of 4am street cleaning zone, and answer post comments which have accumulated in past week. Hope everyone is well. Good night!


XO Tanya



Lonely Lady



Good evening,

I have embarked upon a mission which I will describe soon – for now I feel like letting details rest so I can reexamine them with fresh vigor in the morning. All peaceful here at my abode but past weekend literally made me wonder if US government has started passing out free narcotics in the street.

Everything began innocently enough at a donut shop across town. A large man wandered in, sat down and began eating a jar of olives. “Customer only.. customer only, please..” proprietress called out to him, politely urging him to relinquish his seat since he hadn’t purchased any food inside the establishment. “I gotcha, sister.. I gotcha.. ” the man responded good-naturedly. While rising from table he caught sight of me. “What do you do for a living?” he inquired. For some reason two people at a nearby table also turned to hear my answer. On the spot I glanced at notepad in front of me, sorta gestured with ballpoint pen in hand and stammered: “I’m..  a writer.” The man gazed at me speculatively. We regarded one another. “The Lonely Lady”. he said after a few long moments. “The Lonely Lady.. it’s a really good book. You should read it.” He nodded affirmatively, stared at me harder. I felt myself sigh, knew he was appraising me and that “Lonely Lady” was his accurate assessment. He seemed to relish my discomfiture but we parted amicably. On his way out the door he said “The Loooonely Laady” a few more times as if he enjoyed hearing the words roll off his tongue.

Yet again I missed Andy, my solitary friend in this far corner of Los Angeles County where I reside. No one else lives close enough to simply hit a donut shop with me. I chat with some of my neighbors but don’t know any of them very well. Thinking of Andy I finished my coffee and trudged out the door. For 3 blocks I walked alone and then heard someone running up behind me. Whipping around I recognized a guy I met recently. Happy to see a friendly face I invited him to join me on an errand. We chatted companionably until he said one or two odd things. I looked at him more carefully, noticing something of a wild look in his blue eyes.

As we proceeded down the sidewalk he began accosting passersby with strange accusations. (“I saw you last night. Don’t you remember me? Why are you pretending you don’t know me?”) Then he wanted to change his shirt. As he pulled off one garment and replaced it with another I couldn’t help but notice the dichotomy between his healthy, muscular physique and the clearly drug-induced paranoia in his face. How had his mental faculties deteriorated so rapidly without his body showing any signs of strain? He and I resumed walking til he flopped down on a wide metal post, still convinced that various strangers were involved in some type of conspiracy against him. By now his agitated behavior was attracting attention but I didn’t want to abandon him there. Gamely or lamely I tried to keep him engaged in conversation, hoping he would calm down. A tattoo on his leg looked familiar but I couldn’t place its significance. “What do those two crossed hammers in the circle represent?” I asked him. “Why don’t you sit down in my lap and I’ll tell you about it.” he responded nastily. Although I disliked leaving him to be a spectacle on the street I had to go. For at least half a block he yelled stuff at my retreating figure.

The following morning I visited a nice, safe corporate-run establishment: Subway Sandwiches. Through the window I watched as one homeless man beat another to a bloody pulp. Loser of the battle collapsed in the gutter as his cart of recyclables rolled slowly into oncoming traffic. Soaked from hair to waist in blood he became combative once again when paramedics arrived. Only a proffered cigarette seemed to quell his ire.

On Labor Day I went to the Port of Long Beach to see three gargantuan Hanjin vessels stranded like lost souls in the harbor. Spectacle seemed surreal and, for the first time ever, I honored the Labor Day holiday by actually pondering economic/labor issues. Usually Labor Day just passes by in a blur of barbecue smoke and alcohol. A young man in swim trunks approached me at the coastline. “You look sad.” he said. “Do you need a hug?” He did make me smile.

Anyways, the long weekend has come and gone. Where was Mrs. Hamilton in all this? She always knows what to do..




Looks like Mrs. H drank too much and got herself in trouble. Photos come from upcoming video Vertigo which I am still preparing for release. Hope this post doesn’t come off as a complaining rant – I just felt like expunging the last few days onto my keyboard. All quiet on homefront now. Will return in the morning to answer post comments. Hope everyone is having a great week!

XO Tanya

P.S. I reject “Lonely Lady” moniker. Mrs. Hamilton’s alter ego shall ride again 😉



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