i go through life like a karate kid

So i'm looking into the final details of my plane/train tickets to Europe. All i can say is that i am fucking stoked. May-June will be a blast, i'm going to most of the same places that i went to last time, with a few more thrown in there. London, Barcelona, Madrid, Rome, Florence, Venice, Paris, a shitload of a lot of places in Germany, and then Greece. i'm also lookin' into Switzerland and Austria..because - - well hell, there right in the middle of all of those damn countries.. it would be stupid to not hop off the train and check it out. Wasn't it in Vienna where Before Sunrise was set? Yeah, it could be worth it to check that out. i decided that this time i'm going to try and be a tourist more of the shit to see, rather than a tourist of the local bars/clubs. i'm gonna try real, real hard. Tickets are pretty reasonable right now *around a grand, nonstop*. There's something strange that i find myself thinking about when buying plane tickets for somwhere. You know how when you are on some site like expedia, and you enter in the destination and dates? There's a window that pops up with all the different options for you to choose from. i always think about which of those planes might crash. Like - - i'm lazy, so i always choose an afternoon flight over an early morning flight if the price is close. But as i pay for the afternoon flight i think about whether or not that one is destined to blow up and fall into the ocean in a molten pile of metal and human flesh. . . and if i should've sucked it up and picked the early mornign flight so that i can save my life. . . Can you tell i'm terrified of flying? i mean seriously, i am so afraid of flying it is DISGUSTING. i have to be completely trashed, and then even still i have to call my mom when i am getting ready to board the plane, in order to cry to her. Last time i flew to Europe on the ten hour flight i was schnockered on sleeping pills and red wine. i still couldn't manage to sleep (due in part to the old lady sleeping on my arm, the excellent movie choices, and the slight panic attack i was having). Whatever is the case i'm going to Europe this summer. . Here's praying that i don't come back this time.

The curve of your lips rewrite history.

Would you say they find me unstable?

The past four days have been the ultimate blur. What was supposed to be a fucking blast of a week turned into the worst week of my life to date. It started out just fine - went and saw Doug Stanhope live, he was amazing. Got to hang out with him and his girlfiend for a while there. Drinking into oblivion. i was awake until around eight in the morning partying with some friends. i fell asleep and woke up around ten in the morning to the hotel room phone ringing. It was pitch black in the room and i couldn't find the phone so it stopped ringing. i realized i was alone in the room, Jenelle and Tiki went to the beach. So i laid back down in the bed and started to fall back asleep. Not a minute later the alarm clock in the room went off. i then flew into a full fledged panic. Smacking the shit out of the alarm clock and crawling under the blankets. About an hour later the girls came slithering back into the hotel room. Still laying in bed with my eyes closed i mumbled how the room was haunted. They of course assumed that i was drunk/hungover/sleeptalking/crazy. i rolled over and went back to sleep. Around hour after that i woke up to my phone ringing, and it was my sisters ringtone. My Aunt Vikki was in the hospital in Vallejo being read her last rights and getting an emergency baptism. It was the first moment in my life that i had no idea what to do. i was just standing there in the bathroom holding onto the phone while my sister rattled on and on about how my mother was a mess, and how they found her, and how my own grandmother had to give her youngest daughter CPR. All of these horrible images are being flooded into my brain and i'm standing in the hotel bathroom sobbing like a five year old girl without the slightest clue of what to do. i end up catching a cab, hopping on Bart, walking what seems miles dragging a suitcase to my truck parked in Martinez, hopping on 4, hopping on 680, hopping on 780, then hopping on 80, getting lost in Vallejo like i always, and eventually stumble into the waiting room...on maybe four hours of hungover sleep. We stay in the waiting room until.. well actually i have no idea how long we were in there. All i know is that it was a long ass time, and then we get news. She went so long without oxygen to her brain, to the point where she is 80-90% braindead. Meaning, she is going to be a vegetable for the rest of her life. The doctors want to run more tests, and will know more the next day.. so we leave. The next day we're there at the hospital again because my grandma has to make a decision. Everyone in my family is Mexican and therefore, Catholic. So there's this belief that Christ died on a Friday sometime around three o'clock *the ninth hour*. So there's this belief that when people die around this time their passing is easier. So at 2:45 p.m. my Grandma tells them to pull the plug. We're packed in the room when they do it. Just watching the pulse get lower and lower. i'm listening to my grandma talk to my Auntie and my mother is having a complete breakdown. My brother and sister in law are clutching onto eachother. i'm standing there watching everything. And looking out the window. Then looking at her pulse. And the whole time i am thinking to myself that this has to be a horrible dream. That i am going to wake up in that haunted ass hotel room and then go to see Mason Jennings. i pondered praying to god, even though i don't believe in him. i was just so hopelessly sad. She died within 15-20 minutes of them pulling the plug. After everything happened i was so devoid of everything, i was walking outside with Ian. He says to me, "are you gonna be alright? i mean...your favorite Aunt - your only Aunt just died." i nodded and told him not to worry, that i was "cool". But it was only when he said that, that everything became real. That this was the first person close to me, to go away. This wasn't some obscure cousin i knew when i was four. This wasn't some person i went to high school with that maybe said three words to me during the course that i knew them. This wasn't some distant friend, relative, acquaintance, celebrity, co-worker. Instead, it was a woman that helped raise me. It was a woman who i cared for so intensly. It was a woman who helped name me when i was born. i just can't believe that i am never going to talk with her again. Never going to laugh with her ever again. It hurts so bad. Everything hurts. i just want to scream as loud as i can. i'm so angry. i'm so sad. i'm so worried. i know that i am completely rambling, but i'm just typing as it comes to my head. This isn't something i'm concerned about having sound right or nice, i just need to let some out this out. A few months back her eyesight was really going away bad, even after surgeries. She was a hardcore reader, and it's because of her mostly that i am such a bookworm myself. Anyways, well she got me hooked on Harry Potter, even though i was psychopathically anti-Potter. It's true -just ask any of my friend from high school. After weeks and weeks of coaxing, she got me to read the first chapter of the first book. Then it was a done deal--- my Auntie turned me into a Pot-Head. So when her eyes went away i went over to the house and began to read to her. i got insanely busy/lazy and never got to finish the books with her. i feel awful. i feel like an awful person. And yeah, i know..you aren't supposed to do that kind of thing when someone you love dies. i've always told other people all of those lame things like "they wouldn;t want you to feel this way...blah blah blah". i will now, never tell anyone anything even remotely like that. Because it is lame and in no way shape or form makes me feel better. i feel awful and there is nothing that can change that. i will probably always feel awful. and miss her. and wish that i could have changed something, anything. Ugh. i'm over this.

i hate that life goes on.

His name was Robert Paulson.

So i've had a freakishly strange crush on James McAvoy since he did the Narnia movie. Then he had to go and do Atonement and the obsession has gotten worse. Now there are rumors circulating that he may play Bilbo Baggins in the two hobbit movies. i would be so stoked if he did in fact play Mr. Baggins.

i'm feeling SUPER dorky right now..i've been reading up on Spiderman, The Hobbit, and Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince for an hour now. All the speculations about movies that haven't even been made yet does my antsy ass no good.

The spider who cried wolf.

i consider myself an extremely brave person. Except when it comes to two things, which i have a zero tolerance policy for.

One) Rollercoasters *anything encompassing a free fall moment combined with an upside down moment*

and

Two) Bugs *especially in the arachnid family*

i can't even kill the things. They terrify me that much. A couple of weeks ago my sister and i were getting ready to go to rehearsal at Armijo. Just as we were praising ourselves for finally being on time, my sister let out a pitiful squeal. She grabbed my arm and put herself behind me, all the while shaking and twitching like her chihuahua who was laying down in the hallway blissfully ignorant of what lay in the bathroom. i peered over to the area that my sister pointed at, and there laying on the bathroom mat was the largest spider i have ever laid eyes on in the state of California. It just sat there with its back to us, kicking it like it had rights to be there or something. Jordan and i then got into a five minute argument over who had to kill it. She found it, therefore i felt she had to kill it. i'm older, therefore she felt that i had to kill it. On and on this went until we decided to kill it together. Armed with a shoe and a spray can of poison we then fell into another two minute debate over who had to squish it with the shoe, being that neither of us could handle the sound or the feeling of the crunch of the exoskeleton. Finally i manned up an snatched the shoe from her because i was now late for work. Unfortunately, because i am such a pussy it took at least three minutes of me gaining the courage to first enter the bathroom where the spider still lay unmoved. Then it took another couple of minutes for me to walk up to the spider, freak out and scamper away, walk back into the bathroom, freak out, yell at Jordan and curse the world for planting such a creature in my home, back away from said creature, and then tip toe back into the bathroom. Finally i slammed the shoe down on the spider as hard as i possibly could. As soon as the feat was done i ran backwards, half expecting the shoe to start moving because the spider was so behemoth i figured that something as small as a shoe was no match for it. i shoved Jordan in the bathroom so she could lift the shoe and spray it with enough Raid to kill Mary-Kate Olsen. She of course made me lift the shoe, and when i did..go figure, the spider was hardly even phased by the attempt on its life. He launched in a full fledged attack on its would be murderers. Jordan and i both yelped helpessly as she sprayed and sprayed and sprayed...there was a puddle of Raid foaming up from the spot where the spider, still moving mind you, began to slow its life. i placed the shoe back on it and left a note to all warning of the spider carcass under the shoe.

When i was much younger and living with my mother and father i used to delight in killing ants. i would catch one between my fingers and rip its body in half. Yes, very disturbing and probably a sign of what sort of a person i would later become. But nevertheless i found it intriguing. i blame this infatuation on my mother. During the wet seasons, on our backyard patio there was a spot that slugs like to accumulate. My mother would grab a giant jar of salt and cackle mercilessly as she poured salt on the back half of the slug. Slowly she would sprinkle salt up the back and finally onto the head of each slug. i had to admit, i found it intriguing. Imagine being disinigrated by giants. It blew both mine and my sisters minds. A little bit later on in life after my parents had seperated and my sister and ilived with my mom. Occasionally, a spider *usually of the Daddy Long Leg variety* would creep into our home. My mom would smash it with a slipper, or whatever was handy. Then, instead of cleaning it up she would leave it there to "warn the others of their fate, if they were to lurk in our home". Sometimes she would even go so far as to put clear tape over their dead bodies. i forgot all about these incidents until about a month ago when my sister laughed about it with me. i find this so interesting because about two years ago i was painting my new room. The window had no screen on it, but i had to have the window open because getting high on fumes is only fun for so long. As a result mosquitos kept creeping in and landing on the ceiling that i was painting. So i painted over the stupid asses and laughed maniacally all the while telling my father that i was doing so to ward off anymore bugs from coming in. It's crazy how things carry on though time much to our ignorance of doing so.

Anyway - - Today while doing laundry i noticed not two inches away from my naked foot was a gigantic wolf spider. i panicked. Completely panicked. i grabbed a giant jug of bleach and poured almost the whole bottle on the fucker. In the process of doing so i ruined my favorite shirt and still didn't manage to kill the bastard. He scurried under the washing machine while i ran away. i then hopped on the internet to try and figure out how to fix the current situation. Apparently, wolf spiders in the home are VERY common for the Fall, because they're looking for a warm place to live. They are very non-aggressive, and they lay eggs that attach to their bodies..when the eggs hatch the babies stay attached to the mother...FUCKING SICK! i would lose it if i saw this.




Fucking christ...i dunno what i'm gonna do if i have to deal with anymore of these creatures!

Sunday!

Damn - that's a good one. i am feeling more accomplished right now then i have in a very long time. The sememster is almost done, thank you god. After i get done with my last final i am going to go on the craziest trip in the world, i think. i'm going to go crazy.

Barack Obama won the election last week. i wasn't really gung ho for the guy until a few days before the voting took place. i was fully intending on voting for him, but only because Sarah Palin terrified me. What changed my mind to really be intot he dude was when he did the interview on the Daily Show a few days before the election. It was kinda cool to see him as a normal human being. It's kind of hard to listen to everything he has to say. Being an American woman from the time period i'm from has rendered me slightly more than skeptical of anything that just about anyone has to say, whether it's regarding politics or the weather. So for someone to come in and say that he is going to try to fix the mess that has been created over the past decade or so just sounds completely ridiculous and totally full of shit. It was near impossible for me to believe him. i just figured he was an amazing public speaker and he was sputtering flowers from his mouth so people would vote democratic. But after the interview with the Daily Show, i looked at him for the first time and thought that maybe i could think somewhat positive for a change. Maybe this guy was for real. Maybe he did want things to be different and for the better. Maybe he didn't just want to get into power for his own financial gain. Maybe he wasn't his parties puppet with the strings being tweaked around by large corporate businesses. So i voted for him, and not just cause the Alaskan woman with the hairpieces scared me. Here's hoping things work out for him. It'll be just too much for the struggling optimist in me to take if it turns out he was full of shit the whole time.

Took to drinking as religion and landed on my knees

You go Glen Coco!

Fuck.

i just spent all day going through my comments over the course of almost five years on myspace. It's insane how much can change over time. All i know is that this put my brain in a very, very strange place. Most of the people that posted comments i'm still friends with. But i would stand to say that we are all no where even close to what we used to be. People i toured the country with in 2004, i don't talk to them at all anymore. People i performed with in Raiders, i see only in passing maybe once a year. Friends that were like family i see maybe three times a year, and we have nothing to talk about anymore except "how we're doing and what we've been up to". Dennis from Vallejo...he was there too *lol*. Then again, i have the people that i still see and talk to daily, and it makes me grateful that i still have them in my life. i just wonder what would be going on if i hadn't of been so selfish in these past five years. i am a completely different person now. i'm better in a lot of aspects and worse in a couple of aspects as well. Do i regret anything? Not anymore. After going through and taking in all of the phases i went through, and the people that influenced my life i realize that i am right where i am supposed to be. And instead of being scared, like how i always was, i am instead so fucking excited with where i'm at and where i intend to go in my life. And on that note - i'm off to go drinking with some friend on a school night. Something i never do. Something i used to always do. But i need to see these people, because i love them and am only just now realizing how easy it would be to have them fade from my life if i were to neglect them. Which is something i unfortunately used to do in the past as well.




Also - i found a picture of my on the tour bus during drum corps... i am never eating again. hah! gotta love being 19.

Me Voy a Sacramento.

i'm totally being a youtube whore. But this clip is wonderful, and people need to see it. i love Kevin Smith. love love love. i love Tim Burton too, but this is just fucking hilarious.

keep 'em jackin' off in their basement.

Been looking into hotels for next month when i go to see Doug Stanhope and Mason Jennings in San Francisco. i cannot wait for this. Seriously. i've been looking forward to these two days in November since June. For those of you who have been living under a cardboard box and don't know who either dude is that i mentioned before, feast your ears (and eyes) on these videos.

Mason. Who i am completely in love with. But then again how could you not be?



and here's Dougie..

i ran away from good

Simply perfection. Sia is too damn wonderful. This is an acoustic version of one of my favorite songs of hers. From the big bird poncho thing she's wearing. To the unitards the guys playing the piano and guitar are wearing.

there were so many fewer questions when stars were still just the holes to heaven

So i've been horribly busy the last month. Horribly and disgustingly busy. School and work are going fucking amazingly well. October has been full of so many things, and the month is only half over. Trips to Sacramento. Panic/Dashboard concert. Halloween in the city. i'm going to Santa Cruz for the weekend on this Friday. Gonna be hammered on the boardwalk at ten a.m. on Saturday, and will proceed to be drunk for the next two days. Trips to museums to see a few exhibits. Halloween *my favorite day of the year* in the City. A field trip to the Marin Headlands for my geography class, which my bitchass just got a 94% on the midterm *we'll see how the other midterms went*. Housesitting. All the while spending hours upon hours at Armijo putting together this show. Next month is going to be just as fucking crazy.. probably more. The winter season will begin for Armijo, which means auditions and new shows are going to have to come together, while still maintaining our current piece for the Fall. But i get to go and see Doug Stanhope and Mason Jennings next month in the City! It's going to be fucking amazing. The shows are back to back, so consider my ass out of commission on November 12th and 13th. Hotel room in San Francisco, taking a couple days off in the middle of the week.. yes, yes y-e-s. i also MIGHT be going to Missouri for Thanksgiving to visit my white family. The thought of Mexico has been placed in my head by more than one person for a Spring-ish trip. Washington for New Years was also a possibility i was looking into. So i guess that's a bit of an update. Maybe i'll get around to posting something of more substance someday.


wonderful - -

Triumph of Right

Colin: Dude, i had a dream last night that i had a baby!
Audra: Oh! So you mean you had a nightmare last night that you had a baby..

Precisely.
___

After the events of this past weekend i desperately needed some time to sit and reflect on the show. Instead of considering it a failure, which i could have easily done i have decided that a lot of really good things came from it. i will not get discouraged like i have in the past, and no i am not going to get a giant number three tattooed on my forehead *which i was feeling like i needed to do all weekend long*. i am basically going to do whatever the fuck it takes to have this show wind up successful..

Hopped up on 5-hour Energy

i so cannot get focused to save my life right now. i've been attempting to study for my first geography block exam all weekend. i spent my Saturday night sitting outside of Starbucks studying. It was quite a beautiful moment actually. Adrianna was wearing her Cal sweatshirt, no make-up, with greasy hair. i looked exactly the same except without a Cal sweatshirt on *for obvious reasons*. We had the forlorn look of wear and tear on our faces as we sucked down cup after cup of coffee. Papers and open books are scattered EVERYWHERE on our table and i sat scribbling in my notebook like a mad woman, while Adrianna read feverishly from her book. Right at this moment Megan Bananzadeh and Audra Perry *two of my gorgeous friends* come stomping down the pavement in their Saturday night best. Hair, make-up, and outfits looking immaculate. They were heading to Sacramento to go out. It was the perfect sitcom portrayal of complete polar opposites. What normal people do on a Saturday night compared to what not-normal people do. i couldn't help but laugh at the horrible-ness that is the not having of a social life. i couldn't have a social life right now if i tried my very damndest. i thought it was crazy of me to go and see a movie this Friday night *Burn After Reading* and then afterward get a pitcher of beer at a bar. What have i become?!? Responsible. . . impossible. Not me. Never. i am a complete mess. Everything has flip -flopped. My social life is where my work/school life used to be *disastrous* and my work/school life is where my social life used to be *thriving*. But right now i cannot get focused, my brain is so completely mushy. It can't form sentences, i feel so scattered. i am EVERYWHERE right now and it feels like shit. i find myself thinking about the smallest and most insignificant details that make up the stupidity of daily life. Concerning myself with nothing that matters when i have a paper and a HUGE block exam due at nine o'clock. From wondering if Jenelle is still interesting in going to MOMA with me on Wednesday, to reading a blog someone unimportant posted, to trying to figure out when i can make it out to Home Depot, and conditioning Julien's fur. This blog for example, i'm writing a blog about virtually, nothing. When i SHOULD be brushing up on the divergent, convergent, and transform boundaries which shape the Earth. i cannot focus..


In other news i have a slightly funny story to tell about my father.

So a very long time ago, a couple of years before i was born my father was a mid-western brought up hippy dude who looked an awful lot like Matthew McConaughey. *Seriously, every time i watch Dazed and Confused and see Matteo's character i could die..* The year was 1982. He has just moved in with my mother and they were not quite married yet. The Jehovah's Witnesses were running rampant going door to door trying to convert more Mexicans to their cult. My father was just about sick to death of these old bitty ladies rat a tat tappin' on his door when they came back after he asked them repeatedly not to. So when the ladies came back one
Summer afternoon, he peered through the peep-hole and saw them, he quickly got out of the shorts he was wearing around the house and then opened the door. "Good afternoon ladies!" He stands there stark-naked with a smile from ear to ear with the front door wide open. Needless to say, our home was black-listed for a while. Anyways, fast forward to present day, we are now living in between two Mormon families, and the Jehovahs are no longer seeking more Mexicans. Some Mormat comes pounding on our door, on some rampage trying to get people to NOT vote for Obama. My dad was bored and decided to let this guy talk past his introduction so as to have something to do. After about two minutes, my dad realizes this guy is a complete idiot and decides to try and find out exactly how much of an idiot he was. So they start debating about Obama and McCain until my dad has had enough. My dad then mentions how he's not much of a fan of being told how to think. he tels the Mormon how he was born in Illinois and raised there, and then moved to Missouri and lived there for about ten years before moving out here. He says very slowly so the man will really comprehend, that he still holds a lot of the views that were ingrained in him as a youth in Illinois AND Missouri. At this the Mormon gets very offended and flees the front porch. In the very late 1800s Missouri kicked the Mormons out of their state and they went to Nauvoo, Illinois. Once there their temple was burned down to the ground along with a lot of Mormons themselves. i find this funny because i know my father is a very open-minded kinda guy with a sick sense of humor. He doesn't really hate Mormons, just what they stand for..Therefore, he loves to offend them in any way, shape, or form. Not just cause they're Mormons, he loves offending everyone. i now know where i get it from.

Silk

My beloved...

Do not be afraid.
Do not speak.
Stay as you are. i'm here at your side.
Do you feel me?
When i touch you for the first time...
you will feel the warmth,
but you will not know where.
Perhaps, it will be on your eyes.

Who could ever erase this moment?
There is no end to it,
don't you see?
What we were meant to do, we have done.
Believe me, my love,
we have done it forever.
And if it serves your happiness, do not hesitate for a moment
to forget this woman who
for now
says without a trace of regret...
farewell.

Plain and simple.

i have this horrible habit. Whenever i get overwhelemed i shut down. i sit at home, ignore phone calls, and am only able to focus on one or two things. Usually work related with the occassional hobby i.e. a book or a computer game. i'm there right now. Completely overwhelmed with some of the stupidest shit in the world. i was sitting at dinner tonight and after a glass of wine i began to vent for the first time in what seems forever. Just rant and rail about everything that has been bothering me for the past six months of so, and how they have all been adding up to a giant pile of shit sitting on my shoulder. i realized that i have no desire to deal with these things, no matter how important they are. i feel like i physically and mentally cannot deal with them. i just want to brush them under the rug and focus on school. i want a 4.0 this semester. i want to buy a car. i want Armijo to be successful. Those are my goals as of right now, and with all of the random clutter floating around in my brain i have no idea where to start. i know that in my brushing away of the dumb shit i could put myself in a really bad situation in the future. i'll probably regret not dealing with some of these things, but i know my capabilities as a person. i'm stubborn. Probably one of the most stubborn people i know. As a result i alienate people because i am not big enough to admit when i'm wrong or when i think i'm right, or more importantly when i know that i have done NOTHING wrong. i feel like there are certain people that blame me for some things that are going wrong in their lives. i can see how i would become the easy scapegoat. Knowing all of these things doesn't infuriate me, it simply makes me sad. i like things to be perfect, but i don't want to work on fixing things. i like them to just buff themselves out. In reality i know this isn't possible. But i don't have time to dwell on this shit anymore.

Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories.

So i'm pretty sure that i've elaborated on the fact that i LOVE postsecret.com. Today a great secret was posted about the ending scene of an old movie that i have long adored, Brief Encounters it's about a doctor and a housewife who have a doomed affair. The soundtrack is brilliant *Rachmaninov, i swear that man can make me weep without hardly trying*. The movie perfectly captures to me what it is to embrace that old saying "'Tis better to have loved and lost. Than never to have loved at all." i understand that this is all so cheesy and ridiculously over-dramatized but screw it. Yes, i love old romance movies. i love classical piano. i love poetry. i understand that this makes me slightly strange and such a "woman".. But honestly people..how can you not love these things?

Just listen to this....from beginning to end...open up your windows, let the breeze come through your house. Play this loudly with no television playing in the background. Do the dishes, make yourself lunch...do whatever the fuck you want to...but make sure you listen from beginning to end and then try to tell me that this is not beautiful.



Then watch this clip from Brief Encounters.



If you're smart, you'll netflix it.

Rain Diary

i had a dream that Guns N' Roses got back together and actually made it on tour. i went with my dad (an awkward choice to take with me to a concert with people of that caliber). Ozzy Osbourne was the opening act, followed by Metallica *don't ask...it was a dream*. There was a guy sitting on my right vomiting and passing out from too much alcohol, it kept pissing me off cause it would splatter and almost land on my shoes. My dad was sitting on my left and trying to block me from this hot guy who kept wanting me to go outside with him and his friends to do heroin. My father succeeded and the people on the left made their way outside without me. i eventually snuck out there when my dad went to get a soda. When i got there the heroin-doers were in a cornfield walking around talking about how they come from L.A. How they just came up here for the concert, and how they'll drive home that day after tsaying up all night doing heroin. When i was trying to beg them not to do it i realized that the sun was coming up and over the cornfield, it was peeking through the stalks and looked eeriely beautiful. The dream got really strange from there, i won't go into too many details. i'll summarize it in a few words: more heroin, trying to save a polar bear cub, Japan, me being forced to do heroin, followed by an awkward birthday dinner with a strange mix of people that i haven't seen in a while. All in all, i need to stop reading Li Young Lee and listening to Sigur Ros before going to bed. It's fucking with my dreams, it's the third strange one i've had this week.

How do i say this delicately?

This has GOT to be the gayest thing i have ever witnessed.



Celine Dion's "A New Day" in Las Vegas.

The costuming, the choreography, the lighting, the rising staircase...simply fag-tastic! i need to meet the man who directed this show, stat.

I meditate to regain my mana, before casting Lvl. 8 Cock of the Infinite.

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