Nagadee It's supposed to taste like God's piss, and since I imagine He doesn't have much waste coursing through his system, water is pretty accurate a description for what might fall into His great urinal in the sky. Left in the car overnight, it now resembles a pee slushy, crunchy with ice-sickles and lining the square bottle like car wax. Um.

I've got nothing to write, only the notion that i should be writing. Life seems to be revolving in short little cycles that pull me from week to week, always an event in the future luring me further. Yet looking back, I see nothing but similar days filled with similar things. Events just passed include two shows and a snow day at work. Moments in the near future include modeling, Christmas, cleaning a friends dog, and getting paid.

The longer you spend with yourself, the more you learn what you actually like doing. It's almost like you have your real self with your real interests, and then the self you like to put a little closer to the surface that likes the things you say you like. "Oh i love to read, write, draw, jog, eat good food..." that's the me you put on your myspace and blog so others can imagine you in your free time, doing what you just explained you would do. But when that time comes what do you do? What you actually like doing. I actually like petting animals above all things. Under interests I will now put "Rubbing my nose into the neck fur of warm dogs, resting my cheek on my kitties soft back, and loosing my fingers in thick belly coats." It's not like a little pleasure that i fit into my day, it's what I do with my free time, like meditating only less noble. I was late to work today because I was enjoying my interest.  ¶ 9:02 PM 0 Comments

  An Angry Blade And as I turn the handle a small vibration goes through my hand and into my chest. My brain, the clever little thing it is, registers this sensation as a warning, a thought that something may just not be right, yet I continue to open the door. The light shinning through the crease without any need of a key lets me sense fully that, yes, indeed, the door was unlocked and there I stood alone in my dark house full of God knows what, open to God knows who. But I don't hesitate, I don't budge, and I don't even feel that eerie sense of fear that often accompanies such circumstances. I simply walk slowly through the house, letting my eyes adjust to the full dark as I begin to sing. Why no fear? Why am I not reliving any of the many vivid horrific murder scenes I have seen in movie after movie? I don't know. I just walk on.  ¶ 10:04 PM 1 Comments