corky returns soon; in the meantime, bridget.

amie
andie
christian
fisher
ginger
grebby
kd
kuda
lauri
legume
leonard
liz
noodle
sophie
writebrain
xtink
zelda

pitas

bigbaby
clownhall
computer donation
dictionary
drunken orson, etc.
the eye
flowers
get your war on
gonzalez
(more) gonzalez
headstones
hoaxes
kayo books
lileks
microbes'n whatnot
modest needs
name yer bebe
news
oddtodd
onion
pokey
postcard collection
protection
recipes
reverse directory
scripts

recommended

rent this or the kid gets it

e-mail me you bastard

ReTaRdObLoG

I've got a feeling I don't want to know

Wed|07.31

Do I have to vote for Gray Davis? I mean, do I? I've been planning to write in Matt Gonzalez. Fuckin' A. Can't I just DO that without worrying that I'm helping "the other side" like they're not all the same but there are subtle differences maybe. MAYBE. WHAT.EV.ER.

I need a haircut. My security guard loves me with short hair, he keeps asking me when I'm going to shave my head again. He says I have a nice-shaped head. He's from the Ukraine. I should talk to him more but I'm usually late when I get there so I'm just all "Hi!" as I breeze by, and sometimes I pause to nod and smile while he tells me my hair should be shorter.

Eh. What can you do.

Hate myself, hate my life, feel weird and numb and sick. It'll pass. HAHAHAHA! And then it'll come back. But then, you know what??? IT WILL FUCKING PASS AGAIN.

I really think so think so think so

Sun|07.28

Saw things today. Guy's butt. Shaved, I believe, with a rainbow tattoo on it. It was hanging out of holes in his jeans, you see. His butt was.

In the ladies' room, on the stall door, someone had scribbled with a purple sharpie: SAVE LOCAL MUSIC! But did not provide an outline for doing so. It's hard to know what to do, in cases such as these.

Line of people out the door at the U-Haul place on Valencia. Glad today wasn't moving day for me.

My cat says hey.

Anyway, I feel like I am just floating, floating floating. You know.

Sat|07.27

Jake I loved for so long. My college boyfriend. Read parts of an old journal tonight thinking I should just destroy these how sad and depressing and odd they are to read. I wrote these? Apparently. And I knew someone named "Teeth." I don't remember that at all.

If I had been braver or maybe just a different person I would've moved on after our first break-up, I would've realized I couldn't be around him and just let him have our mutual friends instead of trying to coexist in our small gang. I would've moved on.

My problem is moving on. Stasis. Realizing it's okay to do something, to leave things, to just fucking do it.

Fear fear fear fear it never goes away. It guides me. It's sad that I let it. OH MY GOD I have nothing to write.


aRcHiVeS | hOmE