went to 'bodies: the exhibition' today- $26.50! it was a very cool display overall, i suppose: dwarfish cadavers from china in various poses of athleticism. the one female whole-body was standing askance without any sporty props. i made a sarcastic comment about sexism. everything was under glass or, at the very least, heavily lacquered, giving it much less authenticity than i craved. what did i expect, a rotting corpse with a halo of flies? there were displays of feti injected with anviren (sp?), which binds to calcium and turns the bones red. they were gorgeous, almost soothing, visible testaments of mortality floating in solution (upright, in fetal sitting positions) tastefully backlit. parts of that exhibit almost made me teary. it is truly amazing that humans can function at all. we are, i dare say, very beautiful creatures.
that shmaltz wore off abruptly, after seeing the huge table draped with human skin. a teenage boy beside me said "can you imagine being the dude who had to cut all this off?" there was the little kid who loudly and repeatedly asked his mother "what's THAT? what's THAT?" as she dragged him away from the penis display. there was the young couple voraciously molesting one another amid the cases of cecums and colons. throughout j kept making snide comments like "this is making me hungry." it was cool, yes, but not worth $26.50. afterwards i kicked his ass at galaga.
my own body is still, at 8.30pm, grousing about my residual alcoholic toxicity. i need to nip this fucking bender in the bud. i know better. once i start drinking it is very difficult for me to stop. thus it is a saturday night with tea and, irritatingly, reo fucking speedwagon on the hi-fi, and i'm in a bit of a daze.
i need to get out of town. i want to go to a beach. perhaps astoria. i want to see tortured surf and discover squirmy seabeasts and feel somewhat cleaner of spirit. how convenient that i decide this on the eve of my next work-binge.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Friday, January 26, 2007
my own hands know best
my mindframe is much, much better today. things have a way of working out, eventually, in temporary interims. last night was a vacation from the shit. j and i smoked and watched 'sherrybaby'- a very good film- it seems that every movie we see together involves heroin, nudity, and the fucked-up human condition. afterwards i was feeling very mellow. i got home and decided to go on a little drive- very safely, i might add. i was driving aimlessly down i-5 when a car next to me began honking. it was my ex, whom i hadn't actually seen since november, gesticulating furiously- the creepy culmination of the aforementioned day of calls and harrassment. i am both pleased and unnerved that my facial expression did not change at all. i got off on an immediate exit and went the other direction on the freeway instead. it wasn't until about three minutes later that the reality of what just happened hit me and my hands began to shake. what the fuck was he doing driving around seattle after midnight on a weekday? i am more tweaked out by this than i can fully acknowledge- it helps to have a plan, which i didn't possess yesterday. i was blaring the fucking bangles. i continued to sing along.
another disturbing dream: i was walking through belltown at night, going to the vet, carrying helix. he wsa riding on my shoulders, draped around my neck, purring. i turned down a side street that was lined with warehouses. all the streetlights were burned out. "oh my" i muttered aloud, but i continued onward. behind me to the left came a sound of change jingling in a pocket- i turned around just in time to intercept a man who was lunging at me. i began screaming, swinging at him, helix on my shoulders all the while. the man ran off. i woke up sweating. there is a definite theme to my reveries of late: dangerous/fucked-up situations that ultimately cause no damage apart from freaking me out. i suppose i should be grateful. it all must mean something. relax, everything's going to be just dandy? you're stronger than you think? things are never as bad as they appear? (the fact that helix was draped over me like a uremic stole did make the memory a bit more lyrical.)
this morning's fog has burned off and the sky is, how you say, cornflower blue. i would be hard-pressed to identify an actual cornflower. crayola, your esoteric teachings give me pause.
another disturbing dream: i was walking through belltown at night, going to the vet, carrying helix. he wsa riding on my shoulders, draped around my neck, purring. i turned down a side street that was lined with warehouses. all the streetlights were burned out. "oh my" i muttered aloud, but i continued onward. behind me to the left came a sound of change jingling in a pocket- i turned around just in time to intercept a man who was lunging at me. i began screaming, swinging at him, helix on my shoulders all the while. the man ran off. i woke up sweating. there is a definite theme to my reveries of late: dangerous/fucked-up situations that ultimately cause no damage apart from freaking me out. i suppose i should be grateful. it all must mean something. relax, everything's going to be just dandy? you're stronger than you think? things are never as bad as they appear? (the fact that helix was draped over me like a uremic stole did make the memory a bit more lyrical.)
this morning's fog has burned off and the sky is, how you say, cornflower blue. i would be hard-pressed to identify an actual cornflower. crayola, your esoteric teachings give me pause.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
just when i was growing unaccustomed to trepidation,
shit has gone down. again. perhaps these cyclical mindfucks are to keep me in check, enhance appreciation of the sunny stuff, remain humble, but FUCK. again, FUCK.
he keeps calling. i rang my cell company and asked if i could block calls. the woman was very nice and apologetic. "we're working on that but unfortunately we cannot" she said. i left a message at the court asking about restraining or no-contact orders. they haven't called back. everything was supposed to be fucking done in two weeks. actually, yeah, it was supposed to be fucking done a year ago. i am intolerant of being fucked with. sadly, this intolerance is a fairly recent mindset.
i feel sick when i think about it, so perhaps i should not.
but no, i am not yet done venting. the worst thing about all of this: i am cynical as fuck as a result, and it is depressing. every hideous relationship i have been in, and there have been several, began with rapture, adoration, trust, glee. the cruelly abusive behaviors did not seep in until i was digging them enough to tolerate it. perhaps i was young, insecure, immature, naive, so self-loathing that my gratitude over anyone enduring me at all was worth it. this is an embarrassingly difficult habit to break. even now, part of me expects the cruelty, welcomes physical abuse, wants them to lose their temper- because i am used to that, it's familiar, and their rage must mean they really care. goddamn. i am so fucking fucked up.
i am afraid that something horrible is going to happen, and the courts will have not done anything, and the fucking phone company will shrug and blame technology, and i will be scared or injured or dead.
it is nice to read prior entries and recall my upbeat solliloquys. i hope that things will improve soon. fuck it all, anyway.
oh yeah: don't ever get fucking married. ever.
he keeps calling. i rang my cell company and asked if i could block calls. the woman was very nice and apologetic. "we're working on that but unfortunately we cannot" she said. i left a message at the court asking about restraining or no-contact orders. they haven't called back. everything was supposed to be fucking done in two weeks. actually, yeah, it was supposed to be fucking done a year ago. i am intolerant of being fucked with. sadly, this intolerance is a fairly recent mindset.
i feel sick when i think about it, so perhaps i should not.
but no, i am not yet done venting. the worst thing about all of this: i am cynical as fuck as a result, and it is depressing. every hideous relationship i have been in, and there have been several, began with rapture, adoration, trust, glee. the cruelly abusive behaviors did not seep in until i was digging them enough to tolerate it. perhaps i was young, insecure, immature, naive, so self-loathing that my gratitude over anyone enduring me at all was worth it. this is an embarrassingly difficult habit to break. even now, part of me expects the cruelty, welcomes physical abuse, wants them to lose their temper- because i am used to that, it's familiar, and their rage must mean they really care. goddamn. i am so fucking fucked up.
i am afraid that something horrible is going to happen, and the courts will have not done anything, and the fucking phone company will shrug and blame technology, and i will be scared or injured or dead.
it is nice to read prior entries and recall my upbeat solliloquys. i hope that things will improve soon. fuck it all, anyway.
oh yeah: don't ever get fucking married. ever.
Monday, January 22, 2007
please rest your hand in the small of my back
i am nonsensically hyperactive, dithering about in an insomniac aspic, far too amused by my own stupidity. spacy and disinterested at work. i need to shut my mouth a bit more. 'low spark of high-heeled boys' was on the hi-fi as i drove home. i once played that for someone who claimed to not like it. that is fucking blasphemy.
i had an unsettling dream about j. in the dream we were in a warehouse of sorts and somehow i realized that he was actually nosferatu. "he knows that i know!" i thought. "i am in danger!" i attempted to escape via a catwalk... quietly exited through a door that led to a fire escape... the door latched shut behind me despite my efforts. as i crept down the stairs i saw him on the lawn below, walking his dog, Feigning Normality. it was too late to turn around, so i approached him cheerily, straining to appear casual. i woke up in a bad state. it was four am. i have not been back to sleep since, apart from nodding off on my couch around 7 in the grey dawn and waking up about ten minutes later to the fucking cat micturating on the fucking carpet. fortunately my day did improve since then.
it is hard to concentrate on work when i am obsessing about carnalities.
enough of that thought pattern. this is a family blog.
blog is a fucking horrid word.
i suppose i am not much a fan of the hard g.
we were planning to watch 'mulholland drive' tonight. i am far too dingy (both hard and soft g) of physique and spirit to pull that off. i plan on going back to my lair and passing out in akimbo wistful abandon.
but first! a reminder that the details make the whole:
today: roe v wade 1973. lots of toast. the revelry of a very fucking excellent 2nd mix through the unnervingly grey freewayscape. large paraparetic dogs drenching their cages with urine. the completely feather-plucked conure. catty comments about the obstreporous male tech. the fucking undisciplined dog with the bone protruding from his ass and the hysterical slurring owner. the multiple orders of soy chai being called out from the counter. muddy waters. reading his blog and grinning foolishly. terrible generic jazz is playing here. this particular cafe, off the beaten path a bit, has a late-90s vibe about it though it was just opened last year. there is something icky and unsettling about a place that adheres to 'trendy'- like the ghostly hotel lounges of dusty mauve and vile florals, perpetually 1983, artificial plants gathering dust, retirees in poly-blends sipping flavored coffees as advertised on the tabletop paper foldy-thingies.
i am fucking tired. babbling. but not as a brook, nay, rather as a stagnant pool. a pool where things grow and grow slimy all at once.
i had an unsettling dream about j. in the dream we were in a warehouse of sorts and somehow i realized that he was actually nosferatu. "he knows that i know!" i thought. "i am in danger!" i attempted to escape via a catwalk... quietly exited through a door that led to a fire escape... the door latched shut behind me despite my efforts. as i crept down the stairs i saw him on the lawn below, walking his dog, Feigning Normality. it was too late to turn around, so i approached him cheerily, straining to appear casual. i woke up in a bad state. it was four am. i have not been back to sleep since, apart from nodding off on my couch around 7 in the grey dawn and waking up about ten minutes later to the fucking cat micturating on the fucking carpet. fortunately my day did improve since then.
it is hard to concentrate on work when i am obsessing about carnalities.
enough of that thought pattern. this is a family blog.
blog is a fucking horrid word.
i suppose i am not much a fan of the hard g.
we were planning to watch 'mulholland drive' tonight. i am far too dingy (both hard and soft g) of physique and spirit to pull that off. i plan on going back to my lair and passing out in akimbo wistful abandon.
but first! a reminder that the details make the whole:
today: roe v wade 1973. lots of toast. the revelry of a very fucking excellent 2nd mix through the unnervingly grey freewayscape. large paraparetic dogs drenching their cages with urine. the completely feather-plucked conure. catty comments about the obstreporous male tech. the fucking undisciplined dog with the bone protruding from his ass and the hysterical slurring owner. the multiple orders of soy chai being called out from the counter. muddy waters. reading his blog and grinning foolishly. terrible generic jazz is playing here. this particular cafe, off the beaten path a bit, has a late-90s vibe about it though it was just opened last year. there is something icky and unsettling about a place that adheres to 'trendy'- like the ghostly hotel lounges of dusty mauve and vile florals, perpetually 1983, artificial plants gathering dust, retirees in poly-blends sipping flavored coffees as advertised on the tabletop paper foldy-thingies.
i am fucking tired. babbling. but not as a brook, nay, rather as a stagnant pool. a pool where things grow and grow slimy all at once.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
a hot mouth and a smart remark
i feel quite happy and gelid at the moment. the man with the rainbow "smile" sign was on his usual corner downtown; i grinned automatically as usual. played with toys for a long while at magic mouse. did i do this same route last week? probably. i tend to favor my silly little ruts. the sculpture park had its 'opening' today- apparently they really do gate it off at night, which is quite annoying; the space reeks of "les get fucked up an have sex onna lawn". there are also signs prohibiting sculpture touching- of huge abstract metal things. fuck you, seattle! i pawed discreetly. the sun was shining and people were upbeat. many kids on shoulders, many dogs with jackets, the smell of sauteeing onions at the hot dog stand, the sidewalk drummer and his semicircle of plastic buckets. i am reading 'the wal-mart effect'- required for any human, whether one shops at wal-mart or not. it is predictably appalling.
for example: huffy bicycles was contracted through wal-mart, which no company worth its capitalistic salt will apparently turn down, and 900,000 bikes were ordered. but they can only produce 450,000 in their factory. huffy ended up giving their 'trade secrets', whatnot, to rival companies so that the bicycles could be assembled in their facilities. huffy is now fucked, and for a pittance of kickback- i cannot imagine one makes a profit when costs are diminished. whatever. what the fuck do i care about huffy? i had a 'country girl' bicycle when i was about six. it was orange and purple with streamers on the handlebars. that was my brush with huffy. i believe my parents procured it at carr's (which is now safeway... how time does march on). i received it for xmas. giving a bicycle to a kid in december in alaska is fucking cruel. i was too scared to ride it in the snow, and 5 months later too disinterested. if i helmed a company, would i name it 'huffy'? no. no, i would not.
and therein, my scattershot consciousness, with all its vapid patina.
for example: huffy bicycles was contracted through wal-mart, which no company worth its capitalistic salt will apparently turn down, and 900,000 bikes were ordered. but they can only produce 450,000 in their factory. huffy ended up giving their 'trade secrets', whatnot, to rival companies so that the bicycles could be assembled in their facilities. huffy is now fucked, and for a pittance of kickback- i cannot imagine one makes a profit when costs are diminished. whatever. what the fuck do i care about huffy? i had a 'country girl' bicycle when i was about six. it was orange and purple with streamers on the handlebars. that was my brush with huffy. i believe my parents procured it at carr's (which is now safeway... how time does march on). i received it for xmas. giving a bicycle to a kid in december in alaska is fucking cruel. i was too scared to ride it in the snow, and 5 months later too disinterested. if i helmed a company, would i name it 'huffy'? no. no, i would not.
and therein, my scattershot consciousness, with all its vapid patina.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
there was goo
last night j. and i saw the seattle premiere of 'inland empire', introduced and with q & a afterwards from mr. david lynch himself. very cool time. very, very fucked-up movie. i absolutely loved parts of it and absolutely loathed others. as j put it after, it is not as accessible as some of the other lynch films. if you have 3 hrs to sit on your ass in a state of paranoid despair and unease, and some downtime afterwards to ruminate on the film, preferably in sunshine +/- good company, i recommend. one of the audience questions was from a female: "what was it about?" david lynch laughed and didn't answer.
did not see hell's belles last week, due to s calling me in tears from tacoma, freaking out because she'd just spun a 180 on the ice. i spent friday night in the sultry xmas-lighted brotheldom of my lair, making another tape, feeling rather down. c rather pissed me off on saturday. he has worse social skills than i do, and it was getting very irritating. i am obviously not ready for much. i have spent the last few days contemplating that, being rather depressed about the disparity between what i want logically and what i am resigned to emotionally, disgusted with such self-indulgent introspective twaddle... and then, la!, i remembered that i have no one else to fucking live for. for once. this obvious concept is too often elusive in my neuroses. so i can have fucking fun with whomever i please, i can sleep blissfully alone in my ginger-scented sheets, i can smoke a cigarette guiltlessly. i much prefer sleeping alone. i guess i always have. perhaps i always will.
the snow has finally melted. the novelty wore off astonishingly quickly. i was mired atop my hill on tuesday, waiting until it melted somewhat before i could attempt the 45 degree angle towards work. this town has turned me into more of a snively pussy than ever. it is raining and blowing cruelly again, as per usual, and i am much happier.
yesterday at work i sidled up to a coworker. "oh, pikachu" she said. everyone looked at her. "patchouli" someone corrected her. "whatever" she said. "that's how i know brynn's here." i brought helix in so the doctor could practice with her new ultrasound. his kidneys resembled the artificial grapes at a fromagerie. he is doing much better overall. i enjoy offering my animals up in the name of science. that is why he and hecatomb have no claws.
i encourage track 5-6 of 'liquid scarlet' for anyone interested in modern prog. it was a happy surprise from the 90% off detritus at tower.
did not see hell's belles last week, due to s calling me in tears from tacoma, freaking out because she'd just spun a 180 on the ice. i spent friday night in the sultry xmas-lighted brotheldom of my lair, making another tape, feeling rather down. c rather pissed me off on saturday. he has worse social skills than i do, and it was getting very irritating. i am obviously not ready for much. i have spent the last few days contemplating that, being rather depressed about the disparity between what i want logically and what i am resigned to emotionally, disgusted with such self-indulgent introspective twaddle... and then, la!, i remembered that i have no one else to fucking live for. for once. this obvious concept is too often elusive in my neuroses. so i can have fucking fun with whomever i please, i can sleep blissfully alone in my ginger-scented sheets, i can smoke a cigarette guiltlessly. i much prefer sleeping alone. i guess i always have. perhaps i always will.
the snow has finally melted. the novelty wore off astonishingly quickly. i was mired atop my hill on tuesday, waiting until it melted somewhat before i could attempt the 45 degree angle towards work. this town has turned me into more of a snively pussy than ever. it is raining and blowing cruelly again, as per usual, and i am much happier.
yesterday at work i sidled up to a coworker. "oh, pikachu" she said. everyone looked at her. "patchouli" someone corrected her. "whatever" she said. "that's how i know brynn's here." i brought helix in so the doctor could practice with her new ultrasound. his kidneys resembled the artificial grapes at a fromagerie. he is doing much better overall. i enjoy offering my animals up in the name of science. that is why he and hecatomb have no claws.
i encourage track 5-6 of 'liquid scarlet' for anyone interested in modern prog. it was a happy surprise from the 90% off detritus at tower.
Friday, January 12, 2007
staggering like a five-dollar whore
snow has landed in seattle. it continues to adhere 48 hrs later. we met up wednesday night to see a velvet underground tribute at the croc. fat flakes were falling as we left. is there anything more fucking lovely than fresh falling snow? i think not. we made fresh tracks through the deserted paths of seattle center. yesterday was blindingly sunny and cold as fuck. he lives in the labrynthine basement of an old house, the walls covered with '70's movie posters. an entire shelf of laserdiscs. a functioning television sitting on the cabinet of a nonfunctioning television. a frighteningly similar array of music. a simpsons calendar open to december 2006. a cassette of attila, the billy joel metal album, which is actually really good. i walked around his place grinning. his friend is out of town and loaned him his van, so we went to golden gardens to watch the sunset. a gaggle of folk were staring out at the water and gesturing, and when i asked a man with a telescope what they were looking at he cheerfully pointed out the McNaught comet. a fucking comet! we sat in the van with the heater cranked and watched until it disappeared below the horizon. after: fries and wine at the sloop, a dive tavern with pull tabs and affable dart players, then back to his lair to watch serge gainsbourg perform the entirety of 'melody nelson.' very confessional conversations. i am still disgustingly hung over today, as well as rather symptomatic, and these things are killing what is otherwise a fucking fabulous mood.
i really dig this guy. i am also scared as shit. i vaguely remember crying at one point last night about how unfair life is, boo bloody hoo, in regards to the ms and my impending lack of health insurance and my fucking ex getting off scot-free. and the guy listened. and he still likes me. that's pretty cool.
tonight: my friend from work is meeting me to see hell's belles. we went in august, in tacoma, and had a ball despite the squat fort lewis trolls comprising the audience. hopefully i will be less crapulent by then. i am forseeing a water-drinking evening.
'captain jack' plays. billy joel is all over this post. hopefully this is a one-time occurance.
i really dig this guy. i am also scared as shit. i vaguely remember crying at one point last night about how unfair life is, boo bloody hoo, in regards to the ms and my impending lack of health insurance and my fucking ex getting off scot-free. and the guy listened. and he still likes me. that's pretty cool.
tonight: my friend from work is meeting me to see hell's belles. we went in august, in tacoma, and had a ball despite the squat fort lewis trolls comprising the audience. hopefully i will be less crapulent by then. i am forseeing a water-drinking evening.
'captain jack' plays. billy joel is all over this post. hopefully this is a one-time occurance.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
it's about fucking time
i have been grinning my fucking silly ass off. i love, love, LOVE the goofy glow of when i have a severe crush on someone... and when they like me back. we swapped mixes last night- a cd for me, a cassette for him. i drove around through the bowels of east king county today listening. funkadelic to serge gainsbourg to johnny winters to spiritualized to curtis mayfield... from someone who is really fucking cool besides? i am sitting at a cafe right now smiling maniacally as i type. i must look drugged. ah, this too shall pass, as the fantastic always does... or malleate into something more discouraging or sinister... but NOW, RIGHT THIS MINUTE, i am giddy as fuck.
not even aerosmith on the hi-fi shall get me down!
at the swap-meet booth at the market the vendor was hollering "cheap, folks! all this stuff used to belong to my ex-wife and mother-in-law and some other people i don't like!" i had only two dollars on my person. i bought an antique metal box of pencils and a glass bottle of "sani-flush" toilet cleaner (empty), complete with a label of a smiling skirted woman dancing around the commode. everything is wonderful and marvelous and fascinating right now. the candied honeydews and $19 saffron threads at delaurenti's! the chihuahua with the pink fur coat! the posing couples in front of rachel the market pig! chocolate covered sunflower seeds and free samples of tea! even the cold wind is not as hateful as it is affirming.
yeah, i'm still smiling. fucking nerd.
not even aerosmith on the hi-fi shall get me down!
at the swap-meet booth at the market the vendor was hollering "cheap, folks! all this stuff used to belong to my ex-wife and mother-in-law and some other people i don't like!" i had only two dollars on my person. i bought an antique metal box of pencils and a glass bottle of "sani-flush" toilet cleaner (empty), complete with a label of a smiling skirted woman dancing around the commode. everything is wonderful and marvelous and fascinating right now. the candied honeydews and $19 saffron threads at delaurenti's! the chihuahua with the pink fur coat! the posing couples in front of rachel the market pig! chocolate covered sunflower seeds and free samples of tea! even the cold wind is not as hateful as it is affirming.
yeah, i'm still smiling. fucking nerd.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
this flower needs some fertilizer
new year's was actually, for once, rather pleasant. met a friend after work for drinks at the canterbury. the place was deserted. the toilet in the women's loo overflowed. midnight was punctuated by a cheery yet halfhearted noisemaker at the bar. "happy new year" he said, and we clinked glasses. i got home around 4. up at 8.30. we went to deception pass, where the wind was invasive and hangover-depleting. the waters there are turbid and teal, whirlpools visible from the bridge with the disturbingly low railing. "i imagine much death has occured here" i said. clouds were racing. birds attempted to fly. afterwards i learned how to lose dramatically at poker.
the other friend got back into town last night. i am excited and apprehensive. i especially crave solitude when i finally have the option not to. was that grammatical? probably not.
i don't do the resolution thing, apart from: happiness. i want to be happy. really, really fucking happy. my horoscope defined 2006 as "perpetual PMS" and 2007 as "perpetual ovulation." arousal of all. a pervasive, pupil-dilating sensuality. tasting colors and seeing sounds and all that shit. orgasms on a gravel road. i think back to this time last year: it is as if another lifetime transpired that i am only remotely familiar with. i never review old entries. perhaps i should. it is affirming to realize that one has, in fact, lived.
c. cited al green's "simply beautiful" as his #1 "ohhh" song, so one night last week when i was feeling decadently, happily lonely, i turned it up loudly and watched nighttime transpire from my lair. i walked downtown after, floating, giddy, loving the whole fucking world. strangers were smiling back. "you will have a mind-blowingly super 2007" i sent him. "i have a feeling yours will be pretty fucking awesome too" he replied. i foresee it having a pretty lovely soundtrack, at least.
enough! okay, so i am more excited than apprehensive.
the other friend got back into town last night. i am excited and apprehensive. i especially crave solitude when i finally have the option not to. was that grammatical? probably not.
i don't do the resolution thing, apart from: happiness. i want to be happy. really, really fucking happy. my horoscope defined 2006 as "perpetual PMS" and 2007 as "perpetual ovulation." arousal of all. a pervasive, pupil-dilating sensuality. tasting colors and seeing sounds and all that shit. orgasms on a gravel road. i think back to this time last year: it is as if another lifetime transpired that i am only remotely familiar with. i never review old entries. perhaps i should. it is affirming to realize that one has, in fact, lived.
c. cited al green's "simply beautiful" as his #1 "ohhh" song, so one night last week when i was feeling decadently, happily lonely, i turned it up loudly and watched nighttime transpire from my lair. i walked downtown after, floating, giddy, loving the whole fucking world. strangers were smiling back. "you will have a mind-blowingly super 2007" i sent him. "i have a feeling yours will be pretty fucking awesome too" he replied. i foresee it having a pretty lovely soundtrack, at least.
enough! okay, so i am more excited than apprehensive.
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