kestrel

I ended up loving the Brian Jonestown Massacre. Inevitable.

Wanting something horribly makes it painfully wonderful when it happens.

I can wear my ten year old brother's t-shirts.

Honestly? I would have hired me, too.

Let's play a game.

You're aware that while it affords one the momentary illusion of satisfaction, the spewing of bile is never a permanent solution.

And another thing - no death races.

If you cats would stop posting journal entries and leaving me comments, I wouldn't be as overwhelmed by trying to respond to everything. Actually... you wouldn't win by cutting back, either, so don't.

Life, what?
Art in a show this week.
Now I'm not moving for another three months or so.
Moving back another goal, too. Damnation.
Someday: pictures of my new hairstyle of rockdom....
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I'm thinking about giving up chocolate.

Am I trying to kill myself?

Whoa.

That's a big number.

Sit up straight.

PS - One day, I'll remove you all from my friend list, and just have none at all. Be warned.

PPS - Oh, my beloved industrial. At which point today did the bottom ball fall off? If you'd just tell me, I could find you, and continue to treasure you forever. We've almost been together two years, and I miss you more...
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