And Dat's All I Know!

Whoa! 2 weeks is a long time not to be on da blah-guh. But alas, lots of good times and bitchin' memories, yo. I think the only thing worth seriously talking about is my trip to visit the Statue of Ryan (Liberty). All of Friday and a good chunk of Saturday was spent in New York City with Ryan and I'm so god damn happy it was able to happen. There were definitely at least 6 variables in the mix (i.e. lack of the dough, lack of the car, getting around other plans, etc.) but in the end, I was able to hop on the 9:21 train by myself, which happens to be the first time I'd been on a train without others, and arrive at NY's Penn Station at approximately 10:28 a.m. EST. We had the best reunion in the friggin' world. When I spotted her, I did this childish hop thing. Twas silly, but very appropriate for not having seen her since the middle of May. After exchanging proper greetings and "How have YOU been?!"s, we were off to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. What an incredible place. Arriving there, I was told about the exquisite Francis Bacon exhibit that was currently on display. Jesus Christ, that man was awesome with his art straight from a horror film. It's just everytime I say his name out loud, I can't help but to pretend he is the much, much older brother of Kevin. Ya know... Kevin Bacon. Perhaps he was the founder of the Bacon Brothers! (What a silly bunch of musician brothers) Anyway, we scooted around the museum from time period to time period. My favorite section is probably anything with the word Caravaggio in it. And all the effed up feet! That was disgusting. Next time you find yourself in a museum with fancy statues of people, glance at the feet cause in most cases, the toes are hideous :/

After more than 3 hours at the Met, Ryan and I made our way to get sandwiches. We both got Zorbas. While eating, we people watched. It got slightly creepy when some man who was smoking 2 cigarettes and seemed high on "life" started to stare at random women. At the Hungarian bakery next door, we both decided that peeing would be premium. In the tiny little one toilet bafroom, there were about 3,000 writings, quotes, and life stories. It was beautiful reading all of them. I'm glad Ryan wrote her Joe Strummer quote but I'm slightly unhappy that I didn't throw a quote up there. Oh well. I know the exact quote I would have used, too. So after peeing and Zorba-ing, we went across the street to the most beautiful piece of architecture on the planet Earth. St. John's Cathedral. What the hell?! And I was overwhelmed just looking at the insane carving and intricate handiwork on the outside of the structure. But after entering and immediately breaking my neck to glance up at the barrel vaults and beautiful stained glass, I was on a whole other level of impressed. Being surrounded by such a brilliantly tall and divine cathedral is one hell of a way to make one feel defeated. In my 19 years of existence, what is it that I've done that could possibly measure up to the umpf of building something so staggering? The sense of accomplishment that the people who helped create this structure must have been astounding. Even though I don't identify with religion, it was an incredible way to spend part of my afternoon. Floating from room to room with Ryan, touching the glittering stone, getting down on the cushiony knee rest to send a "What Up? Create any miracles lately?" to Gawd, and reading birthday cards to the deceased was a fantastic and humbling experience. I'm excited to go to the Winter Solstice celebration and listen for dawn.

We went to Ryan's neck of the woods, Teh Village, after all the other godly and arty stoof. Washington Square Park was necessary. Saw young children playing in the fountain, witnessed a starving magician insult an 8 year old boy, tripped over dogs and heard guitars all in a very short period of time. We went to Urban only to have 12 year olds insult Ryan's outfit. The little bitches!...Who the hell do they think they are? They don't even have their grown up teeth yet! We did a lot of cute stuff too. Like heard the strangest dog bark from an infant canine. We also talked in Ukrainian accents for a while. How awesome. Then we went back to her house. SWEET BABY JESUS. Ryan, I love your house. It's awesome and eclectic and it smells cute. We listened to She & Him over again while washing dishes. Then we ate dinner and talked about our day. THIS WAS THE BEST PART OF MY LIFE. The entire time we ate our dinner, we pretended to be Loretta and Loreta, two of Staten Island's finest. We immediately became our creative selves and beefed up our best accents to fit with our acts. "Three ex husbands... I wanted to push him unda a bus"..."I like the sound my finga'nails make on the keybawd"..."She killed an ant with her thumb. Disgusting" :) And that's really all I know.

Later that night we went out on a dock to overlook some body of water. It was choppy and Ghostbusters was playing on some big screen. But we had better things to do. Alright, we had some of the best conversation. Honestly, I love how open we were with each other Friday night. I'm super happy that you (Ryan.. you're reading this probably!) felt comfy enough to let me in on life and I'm WAY SUPER HAPPY that you were able to get ma back and provide adequate life advice. You are one awesome chick! And we noticed that as our discussion got more heated, the lightning in the distance would work up more heat as well. And as soon as we would hit a lull until the next point was to be made about unsatisfactory situations, the lightning would put on the brakes too. It was awesome cool. The rest of the night went smoothly. Ate some frozen yogurt, went back to the Ryan house, drew for each other and watched Miranda July's Me and You and Everyone We Know. I think she fell in love with the film which makes me so happy. Macaroni. We fell asleep, woke up at 11 the next morning and were back on the town about 20 minutes later! We found out that even the smallest portion of Belgian waffle with fresh fruit and melted chocolate is filling enough. We also found out that Saturday was super sweaty and gross. But we managed and found relief going into cute stores with funny cards or under awnings that would provide shade if only for 3 or 4 minutes. Saturday wasn't too eventful, but only because we had walked about 347 miles the previous day. So we took the train together back to Hamilton so Douglas could pick us up and the two of them could go camping! It was awesome and sweet that he did that, even if his new car sounds similar to an airplane taking off. :)

OVERALL, I am 112% elated that Friday and Saturday happened for us. It had been about 2 months since we'd seen each other and it was much needed. It's funny that we both thought each other was super cool before even meeting. She liked my Flight of the Conchords bag and I was in love with how she read her poetry at the open mic and how awesome she dressed! It's even funnier that we have become this close and we didn't even start hanging out until the beginning of May. Not even 3 weeks before we left for summer! If I were an outsider and was giving an award for two friends who bonded super quickly due to their AWESOMENESS, I would probably have to give it to Ryan and I. Only cause Simon & Garfunkel would be busy making albums and such. But anyway, yes. I can't wait to see you again, Ryan cause I gots dat ticket fo' free cause-a dat dumb ass who left the ticket in da machine. SWEET!

Points of Interest:
- I consumed more fruit products in the form of juices and frozen yogurt than I expected!
- On the subway, it was determined that Ryan and I would go Goodwill.....hunting one of these days. HAHA RYAN, YOU ARE PREMIUM.
- It is perfectly acceptable to severely cut your hair based on a hat. ABSOLUTELY.
- Massage your leather products with lotion. Your wallet and purse will thank you!
- "And Dat's All I Know"

"Oh, so you were the one who let the dogs out?"

Big Time Stuff. Punk Rock, Birthday Party, Bonding, Fun. It seems as if I've just made everything into a proper noun. SWEET! So I will try and recap just about everything that occurred on Saturday. So I gots maself up pretty dang early... like 7:15 I believe. I had to get all pretty and smelling fresh with my summer lotion. I had a date with the Punk Rock Flea Market and I wasn't about to go without staying classy. So I was lookin' good and feelin' fine when Kelsey got me so we could ride the train together with Chrissy. Well, when I hopped in Kelsuh's sweet ride, we noticed that our outfits were pretty much the same. A high waisted patterned skirt with a flimsy black tank. But it was all good. And the ride to Woodcrest was fabulous, we both filled one another in on hopeful situations and goals. But we had to wait like forever for Chrissuh to get her ass to the train station cause her car kept stalling :/ But she eventually arrived and all was good. OHhh except for the fact that Chrissy was wearing a high waisted skirt and a small top.... BAHAHA! We were triplets, a blond, a red head and a brunette! It was slightly embarrassing only cause Kelsey was prepared to change into purple acid washed jeans prior to knowing the three of us would look just about the exact same! But still, it was cute. So the train happened and the walking to the flea market happened after as well. It took like 20ish minutes from the train to arrive at our destination, the Starlight Ballroom. We had to walk through gunk and goop and stop for Chrissuh to get some cash monaaays. But we arrived around 10, so we made pretty good time. Chrissy's cousin Brittany met up with us too. She is such a cute girl and I absolutely adored hearing her stories about telling different boys off! She's my kinda lady :)

So anyway, the flea market. Well, as per usual, it was hot as balls. The venue that it's held at isn't exceptionally tiny. But when you cram tables upon tables and leave about 5 feet in between each aisle and then stuff about 300 people in, the hot just seems to explode from every which way. You got loud tattoos and sweaty mohawks bouncing off of poorly dressed mannequins and clothes racks. I noticed that after being in the flea market for about 20 minutes, the people didn't really tend to "bump" into each other anymore, ya know? Everyone was so summer loved (sweattttttyy) that you would kinda just slide off of the guy standing next to you to make your way to the next table set up. Gross. But anyway. My first order of business at the flea market?... the dresses! Last summer, I found my favorite dress at the flea market for $8. It's handmade and beautiful and blue and white and it feels like a paper napkin so it's also a dress that comes in handy when I spill things! But I couldn't find a dress that was cheap like my Bounty Dress :) or one with a print that I would consider putting on! So the Womyn (that's what we're called...women with a y. We're also art kidz, but that's besides the point) split up and went our separate ways in search of good buys. I looked through the shoes, found nuffin. I looked through the necklaces and earrings, found a hell of a lot but decided that $25 for fancy, unique jewelry was too much out of my wallet for the day. POOP. So I skipped that part and went looking elsewhere in the flea market. Looked through cds, records and films. My favorite part was the street art tables that were set up. I really appreciate anyone who feels it is necessary to sell their creations to others, but I didn't buy any. As much as I loved the artwork of pen and ink antelope and cityscapes, I couldn't dish out 35 bucks to buy it. Almost two hours later, the Womyn were ready to leave the sweaty goodness of the market. I ended up with a copy of Franny and Zooey by Salinger that is vintage out the ass! as well as this small over the shoulder navajo inspired woven bag. And I got about 10 free posters that are soooo well worth it. I've already cut them up and put them around my room. sooo great. So even though I thought we were done punking and fleaing, we weren't. You'll see.

So the four of us left to walk around Chinatown for a little bit. Chrissuh and Brittany wanted bubble tea and Kelsey and I were dehydrated. All the while, I was waiting for Brandon and his friends to meet me some place in Phila (preferably the flea market and preferably like 30 minutes before this point when I was telling him to come so we could reunite) So us girls stayed in China for a good while drinking bubble tea and talking about life and then B-dawg told me his location was proximal to the flea. SOO long story short, we walked back. And after becoming sweaty and frizzy again, we found each other. I had no idea that when Brandon was telling me he was with friends, that one of the friends was Doug from school! Well his old school now, cause he's not a college man anymore! BUT STILL! That was a pleasant surprise but I wish Ryan had come (I mishhh you gurl!) So I stayed around those boys for a good while to catch up and talk and mingle and lalala. Points of interest: Brandon, you have an unhealthy obsession with Will Smith. But I am glad you bought one of his movies in case you were in a pickle getting out of the ghetto and were forced to whip out the movie and show the locals you come in peace! Also, good job on the recognition of the many hip hipsters as well as the concrete definition that you displayed to Kelsey and I. So after more introductions and fun words being exchanged, I think we all decided to see each other again, which I can support 103%. I am always down for super reunions especially with people like Brandon and Doug and Ryan (you're hanging out with me soon, Ryan. NO CHOICE! also, I think you're reading this cause you told me you stalk me. I stalk you too. <3)

So that's pretty much it. For the flea market at least. We left afterwards, met up with Noam the Great and rode back with him, Stina, Katie and Sam. I forget how amazing Noam is until we actually hang out. I know he's only 15, almost 16, but he is seriously one of the coolest people in the world. Last time I was with him was over winter break when I was being Miss Trembla (the y got cut off my last name for 4 of the 5 field experience teaching name tag days!) and the entire time we talked about stupid things. This time on the train, he and I spoke about how people confuse him for Rick Moranis, probably because now that Noam's hair is blond and blue and super short, they're very similar. We also talked about art teacher Rocky and how he looks when exiting a pool. Noam thinks he looks like a wet deer. I probably agree. I loved the train ride back because I noticed a lot of people were smiling at what we were saying to each other. Guess strangers think we're funny. The after train was great...like 5 hours after. I went with Stina and Kelsey to this boy's house that went to Lenape with us. It was a joint birthday party for Katie and him. Kels, Stina and I were the only white kids there and Stina isn't even white...she's greek! Everyone else was Asian and way smarter than I'll ever be. At one point Kelsey made a remark to Stina and I that Brian the birthday boy's sister was in her math class senior year. The girl is a junior in high school. What the hell does that tell you? That we're not that smart! bahaha :) Anyway, it was a lot of fun even without knowing people. The Womyn kinda separated ourselves from the party to bring our blue drinks outside and talk about life situations again. We had a lot of blue drinks. That was the plus to being there, everything was paid for and real! And then later I basically hated life. Let me paint you a pretty picture. So it's like midnight and it's starting to rain. No biggie...but then it starts to pour. And lightning. And the three of us have to get home. So we leave around 1 regardless of the mess outside. And we're running through puddles, I'm sloshing through rivers of rain water in my porous jellies :/ at least the water goes right through. And it was interesting to hyrdroplane while my feet were in my shoes! But anyway, all is good, just soggy when Stina and I are driving back to my house. We're cranking up the Aerosmith, belting out how we don't wanna miss a thing. Then as I'm home and I get out of her car, my phone falls on the seat. I pick it up to return it to my bag but I realize that my wallet and chapstick are both missing. NOT GOOD. I look on the floor of the car, I look in the backseat, Stina searches her side. And we get nothing. At this point I'm not interested in the fact that it's raining and that I could be struck by lightning. I really didn't give a shit. I get out of the car, get down on my hands and knees in the pouring rain to search under the steats. At this point my white dress is completely drenched (haha, hey boys!) I found loads of old wrappers and pennies and gross car junk, but NO WALLET! So soaking wet from head to toe, I go inside my house and call every asian kid that I don't know to search the house for my wallet. Nobody finds it and I was about 3 inches from bawling. Anyway, I decide to look out the window just for the hell of it. I see a sliver of white and figure that I'm already drenched and pissed, who the hell cares, I wanna see what is in the street. Good news, I found my wallet and my burt's bees submerged in a puddle at the bottom of my driveway :) hahahaha woops. Moral of the story, no more blue drinks for me and I'm going to try not to tip my bag upside down anymore! Now, I'm just giving it time so my social security card can flatten out once again! That was not good, but as soon as I found it, Christina and I spent about 10 minutes just flat out laughing over the phone at how in the morning, we can call each other just to laugh at this stupid, soggy situation!

So that's pretty much it. I did say that the weekend would be pretty epic, didn't I? I am so pleased with how everything turned out. I had hopes of getting a lot more from the flea market that involved possibly a dress and sunglasses, but that didn't happen. I still had one hell of a good time and I'm really glad I went. It was worth it. And now I have an old, beat up Franny and Zooey and this itchy bag that I'll wear more in the winter. And I have great bonding experiences with friends from here that I wasn't sure I'd feel comfortable with as much anymore. But boy was I wrong. My art kidz were there to advise me, drag me, pick me up, stay by my side, comfort me and hold my hand. So tanks gurls! And I got to see Brandon and surprisingly Doug, which was bitchin'. I hadn't seen them since May 15 and it was beginning to get a little unsatisfactory. Now we have sort of made plans and I am a happy gopher. Also, while waiting for the train, I found out that Sam, this really awesome chick that was with us, let the dogs out. After all these years of wondering, tossing and turning in my sleep. I'm gonna call up the Baha Men and let them know that Sam indeed did let the dogs out!

This flier does not coorespond with the Philadelphia flea market, but I thought it was incredible and too good to pass up! It is beautiful.

One flew over the mockingbird's cradle and into the heart of a nation

The most creative task I've done in the past two weeks? Paint and then repaint my nails. Well that was before yesterday of course. I've been lacking the inspiration I need to think outside of the box. It's not like I haven't picked up my sharpie or my 2B pencil, it's just every time I do that, I end up drawing nothing worth my time and I just feel like throwing it away. I'm not interested in drawing still life anymore. Goodbye fruit and flower arrangements....hello everything else! But about the inspiration, yeah. The Philadelphia trip was more or less a concrete way to get me in that artsy mood once again. Yesterday, the Sandra, the Miguel, the Miguel's friend Wendell and I all found ourselves in the hustle and bustle of Philly. I was not expecting to go into the day meeting so many new people. I'd have to say everything about yesterday (besides almost getting hit by a car on multiple occasions and the $36 parking ticket) was premium. Remember when I said a longggg time ago that what I was most excited for in the coming years was human interaction? Well I sure as hell got what I wanted :)

So after introducing myself to Wendell, the four of us cruised up and down South Street bopping from thrift store to outlandish thrift store. While bopping, we found some pretty satisfactory bumper stickers that related mostly to the lack of Jesus' approval in certain situations as well as Girl Power! We saw lots of good stuff, like bikes (I NEED A BANANA SEAT BIKE ASAP) and $3 shoes that were probably clogged with athlete's foot....I'm just sayin'. And on our travels, there were too many (is that possible?) dreadlocked men. I'm not complaining though...just sayin'. Wanna know the best part? Miguel and Wendell were hit on by two lovely ladies working the street. BAHAHA! Just kidding. The 18 year olds weren't working the street, but they were named Barbie and Caramel and they definitely wanted the two boys, fo sho. But for about 15 minutes, the six of us exchanged everything save for our social security numbers! I'm happy that the Barbie/Caramel interaction happened, but I'm more happy that they thought Miguel was 23! hahahahaha, oh man.

We went into stupid places to get tattoos and then the "boy shop." Nothing was purchased from the squishy store besides a ridiculously unnecessary bumper sticker. And no body art was performed though Sandra wanted her lip tattooed. After we were done there, or maybe before, we had another super sonic meeting. Two really cool guys came up to us to tell us that if Outkast and TV on the Radio produced an offspring, that the man standing in front of us would be the result! They describe themselves as folk-hop and are strongly influenced by Biggie and Bob Dylan. wth...that's awesome! It was more awesome when the blondish guy thought Sandra's name was Zelda and he then proceeded to grab her shoulders and yell "I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU ALL MY LIFE!" :) it was the greatest moment in a long time. The singers are called Lee G & Delon. It's like rappy but there are sweet ass beats in the background, and sweet baby jesus, they included Joanna Newsom on three different tracks. Normally rap isn't my cup o' tea, but it isn't purely rap. It's like happy rap that I can understand! So after Joanna's weird voice appeared in the background, they had us sold at that point plus Lee G (who reminds me sooo much of someone, just can't fuckin place it!) is very familiar with Sandra's Buddy Wakefield. We bought the cd and listened to it for a while. They were very awesome people and I TOTES wouldn't mind attending a show of Lee G & Delon's. Plus, they're pretty local and that's greattttt.

More meetings! YES. Well, we went to Art Museum to pay tribute to Rocky's steps and take photographs. Wendell and Miguel showed off in front of the ladies to see who could climb to the top of the huge fountain across the street. Wendell can, and he can also make a fool of himself pretending to blow the statue. :/ There were some skateboarding boys and some foreign ladies in green jeans who thought when we asked them to take a picture of how cute we all are together, that they could take ten minutes to find the right angle and background for us! It was adorable, however. And then after that, we went to these bitchin' sculpture thingers that were massive monopoly pieces and falling dominos! THIS WAS THE BEST INTERACTION!.... okay so there were a gaggle of young children near our picture taking extravaganza. About six miniature people all under the age of 5 I would say. A precious little girl, I'm sure she's just learning to walk, smiled and gave me the cutest googly eyes. Her brother, or friend, a very young one was playing with little army men. When I was squatting down (number 1 mistake) he let the army men cascade down from my shoulder to my arm to my hand to my kneecap to the pavement. So I would take the army men and do the same to him, just to be friendly, ya know? That was all fine. Until he started staring at my shirt, and what happened to be filling my shirt at the moment. He began stuffing the little plastic men with automatic guns down his shirt, still while keeping one hell of a gaze at my goods. Guess what he tried to get me to do next? Ohhh, that's right, stuff the army men down my shirt too. :/ So his mom told him he was "fresh" and I reassured her that it should be comforting that he acts this way, in about 15 years, the kid'll be set! She didn't really care for that...but it's not like I really give a shit...I mean her kid was trying to feel me up! And he couldn't have been more than 2 and a half. But the precious young thang who is just learning how to take steps makes an appearance again in this whole interaction deal. She had a fork wrapped in plastic, probably from some fast food joint and she was chewing on the plastic. And as she did this she started waddling on over to me. So I held out my hand in an attempt to free her from her plastic restraint. Instead, the penguin found it's way over to my outstretched hand and licked my palm. So basically in a matter of about 10 minutes, a 2 year old tried to touch my boobs and a 10 month old licked me. And as they were all departing, the frisky boy shook my hand, but didn't really care to look me in the eyes....I think you probably know where he was looking.

That pretty much was the day. All of the interactions that I had with new people, even if I didn't get their names. I met peers, artists, babies, the homeless, the wealthy, the bronze (shout out to you Rockyyy). It was great and not even thirty minutes from home. I'm excited to meet more people! This weekend coming up should be premium for multiple reasons, but mostly because it's the Punk Rock Flea Market. That means Philadelphia again, and cool things to buy and friends and love and sunglasses and earrings and love and friends and fun and fleas. Can't wait. I'll update about the goodness probs on Monday. And there better be something good worth blaaging about. If you get ma drift :)

ooh, I never told y'all what I did with my inspiration. Well when the four of us were boppin and hoppin through weird stores, I picked up some awesome fliers/postcard/advertisements and such. And they're above my door frame. There is a cow that I cut out from the tattoo place, a kid that looks like his face was made into a rug, flowery things and stupid things all above my door. No biggie, but it's something new in my room. And that's what counts.

Celibacy is like celery. They sound alike and they're both uneventful.

Lately I've been sitting outside on my back porch. I used to try to avoid the sun at all costs. Or just the tan part. I went through a phase for a few years where I didn't feel it was necessary to heighten the pigment in my skin. I used to run around all the time, footloose with my tank tops and shorts on. But that was when I was a young one. Practically a baby. Maybe 11. But then I thought about it, and I realized that girls without suntans can be pretty, too. I still think that, but I kinda miss the rich color the sun brings out in my shoulders, and the tops of my feet. As I've been lounging in the privacy of my own backyard, odd tan lines have taken their form. One day I'll wear a ribbed top that is missing the sleeves and the sun beats down around the hemmed edges. The next day, I'll wear a shirt with straps as thin as angel hair. It's fun to look at though. I have my own scale of colors from my collarbone to the edge of my shoulder. The best part about my newfound sun fun? My freckles have reappeared. I forgot how much I missed the dots that decorate my cheeks after a lengthy day in the sun. When I was a baby (eleven years old) my cheeks and nose, and a bit of my forehead would be taken over by tiny, light brown freckles all summer long, only to disappear once the leaves would begin to fall. I love the freckles that are on my face again. Just as much as I like the freckles that are beginning to line my arms and the tops of my shoulders. Once, I found the Big Dipper on my back....

" 'Take your clothes off and join in, Smith!' But on top of all that, the feelings about Princess, I'd also gone through an entire year of celibacy based on my feeling that lust was the direct cause of birth which was the direct cause of suffering and death and I had really no lie come to a point where I regarded lust as offensive and even cruel." - Ray Smith, Dharma Bums.
HAHAHA! That is incredible. When I was earning my freckles on the deck outside, I read this quote and made sure to remember it. What a great connection that Ray Smith has made here! I don't necessarily think it's right, but how great. A man quitting sex cold turkey just cause he's under the impression that feelings for an attractive woman will eventually lead to suffering and death. It's so depressing. Some would argue without sex and lust, one's life is meaningless. No meaning in your life causes a lot of alone time. Which causes unavoidable thinking. Which causes insanity. Which causes suffering and death. Hmmm... celibacy. Nah. But good job, Ray Smith/Jack Kerouac.

A mausoleum full of half empty hairspray bottles and frayed glitter gloves.

This isn't really my idea of a good time. First Farrah and then Michael? I usually try not to pay too much attention to celebrity gossip. Sometimes it's fun to see pictures of those silly celebs running around acting all high and mighty. But most of the time, I'd rather be captivated by the way these men and women portray characters on the big screen. Or hear their poetry set to the strum of a guitar, the kick of a drum. But this is different. The only other time I can remember in recent years, that I felt this strongly about a celebrity death, was January 22, 2008. Heath Ledger. I remember it was senior year and there were midterms to be taken. Essays to write, math problems to solve. But instead of focusing on those words and numbers, I was focused on the motivation behind this man's death. Pretty much caught in the scandal of the media. This time, a man and a woman have died...all in the same day. One was "supposed" to happen and the other one was as sudden as a blizzard in the middle of July. And the entire time I'm watching coverage on both Farrah Fawcett's tragic battle with cancer and Michael Jackson's weakened heart, I can't help but to think of everyone who has been touched by both of these legacies. (No pedophile jokes, yo!) These two, Farrah and Michael, are completely opposite in character; one a beautiful and iconic woman with hair for miles and a smile to match it, the other a King in his own sense with dance moves that shake the world. But they're both symbols of the world. It's tragic. It's not cool when someone is so consumed by their cancer that they practically melt away. Just like it's not cool when someone is overtaken by an unexpected massive heart attack. She was 62. He was 50. What the hell? Fucked up, man.

The important thing to remember while all of this media attention continues, is that the careers of Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett cannot be the only defining factor. She was a mother, a daughter, a friend, a sister. He was a father, a son, a friend, a brother. Two normal people in the loosest of terms. I'm a daughter, a sister, a friend, maybe one day a mother. Not so different.... Putting aside any unintentional rumors about molesting children, I'm pretty sure 50 years old is too young to die. There are a lot of people already who have fired out "good riddance, he was trash anyway" or "he may have had some good hits, but he still touched little boys." Wow...that's cool, guys. So did the little boy tell you this himself, or are you going off of what Wikipedia might have to say about the ruling of MJ's court trials? All I'm saying is what defines a person is not the media. Unfortunately, the truth may never be revealed now, but it's not like the public eye really had any business sticking their greedy noses into his business anyway. Before you start bashing Michael's affection for children, try taking a gander into the church around the corner...ya know, the one that's so deeply cherished for it's generosity? ... ya got any stories about the Priest? Or is there a justification cause he's in the Lord's house? I'm not a church goer myself, nor have I been diddled (it's a word) by Priests, so what truly gives me any say in the matter of faulty clergy? Point is, I don't know bout yo' Father Figures, just like you don't know bout the King of Pop. So instead of pointing a finger at rumored pedophilia in the pew or some squishy activity at Neverland Ranch, let's try to consider other qualities. Like the fact that Michael Jackson is probably the best dancer to ever grace a stage. Damn.

I think listening to the sounds of the Jackson 5 while Charlie's Angels plays on the tv in the background is the correct way to handle this. What do you think?

Eyes are like champagne. They sparkle, bubble over and in the morning all you got is rain.

Right now, my hands are veiny. I think it's cause I was doing a lot of strenuous work. Like opening and closing my dresser drawers multiple times. Yeah, that's probably what created the veiny appearance of my hands. Sometimes veins are gross when they bulge out like underground roadways. Hondas and Mini Coopers poking through your skin, riding down I-95. Yuck. But right now, my hands aren't sick nasty. The street under my skin is merely just a one way. Narrow and discrete. I wonder why I'm talking about my veins. Have I seriously run out of topics to blaguh about? Pssh, hail NO.

Wanna know the reason I've been opening and closing my drawers? Ok. It's cause I'm interested in the clothes that I own. Especially a new dress that was purchased today. Twelve dollahs. Cha-ching. I'm playing dress up. And then dress down. And then dress up again. My face is being painted with purples and greens that accent my hazelnut eyeballs. The sort of hourglass that is my hips and my torso is being wrapped in soft cloth. I'm heating my hair with a ceramic iron until it's forced to stand straight just so I can pin half of it up and pretend I'm some kind of greek goddess. All the while, Josh Ritter is singing me tunes about his girl in the war (see: alcoholic title) and a thin blue flame. I'm glad I listen to his music, but especially his words. He is a brilliant poet. Having a secret love affair with every meaning of every word. Mister Ritter is having a major impact on me...so much that I had a crazy weird dream involving him turning into Rob Schneider (of SNL, Big Daddy and all those other Sandler flicks). But besides the silly metamorphosis, Joshua is superb as ever.

I need to take away some of the yellow on my walls. By that, I mean I need to find adequate wall hangings. I might just have to start drawing more. And that's fine. But I want things that I don't do. All I've been drawing are old women that turn into popcorn boxes. And I don't know how much I want to see a saggy woman on my wall everyday. So I think what needs to happen is I need to go dumpster diving (or you could just give me anything you don't want anymore. Fabric, posters, orange peels....anything). Also, if you have old time books that you aren't interested in anymore, send them my way, por favor. Tanks a bunch.

I'm going to build an ark. I figure with all this rain, I'm sure this is like Noah part II, right? Except this time, I want the ark to be a petting zoo. And the main attraction will be alpacas. Gots ta make a livin' :)

The fringes on the rug broke your vacuum cleaner, sir.

I'm not feeling extremely wordy as of right now. But I can't think of anything else to do that won't put me to sleep. I could continue on reading Dharma Bums to enlighten me spiritually and Kerouac-y. But once I do, my eyes will get heavy and I will have no other choice but to doze off into dreamland. If I wanted, I could sketch my face. I attempted that two nights ago because I was feeling particularly self confident as well as radiant in my appearance. But soon after my 3B (I work dark) pencil was set down on the paper, and my soft curls bounced around the egg shape that is my head, I grew drowsy again. What is making me so goddamn tired? It's not like I'm working my ass off at jobs. I'm not raising a bunch of kids, trying to make them successful products of the world. I'm pretty much sitting on my ass waiting for opportunities to arise. And some have. Like today. I ripped down (unscrewed) my fan blades and painted them. Seven years ago when I moved to this house, my mom painted my fan a precious shade of puke orange. It was too much and didn't really go with my new room at all. So today I fixed it. If you had to compare the end product of what I did to an organ in your body, it would most closely resemble the heart. The colors of the fan are blood red and aorta blue. Just kidding....cardinal red and turquoise. Same thing though, right?

It's 10:29. What am I going to do to stay awake? Can you please start a conversation with me. Tell me how 85% of your day is spent thinking about me, so I can tell you that 86% of my day is spent thinking of you. Hop through these hours with me like a cricket in flight. But don't hop too high, cause I want to savor this time.