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2003-04-05 || 2:18 p.m. || molly, my roommate brian calls the photo you gave me "copper top vengeance." || plans for today: finishing the rest of pippi longstocking, which, sorry for saying, isn't quite what i remember (brian: 'it's anarchy!' me: 'she's a squatter. buying all that candy and handing it out to the kids? so punk rock.'). taking the kind of bath where the bottoms of magazine pages soak up tepid water, record player pulled as far as it will go in the doorway, cats circling and cautiously pawing at the surface. maybe walking to the kite park in the marina to read sylvia path and catch freckles and fall asleep for a few minutes. painting picture of an eel for owen because he hates them and i do love to torture that boy (but an eel in an old lady hat surrounded by tea cups and oldladythings?). getting incredibly frustrated by working on my novel, spurred by nightmares about my teacher telling me to quit my job because really, i need to devote myself wholeheartedly (mb, looks like i will be quitting my job and living in your closet after all). last night we drove to santa cruz for a show. we stood in a backyard and i got quite intoxicated from one forty and no dinner. i swooned over my hero, miss ashley, who really is so effing funny i always shoot snot when reading her. i stood this close to the lead singer of p.calamity so that i could feel his breath along with his devil voice. then some younger boys started thrashing about and i feared for the fate of my teeth and retired to the kitchen. standing in the kitchen of a house show is the best thing ever. feeling all that heat and sweat and sound coming from the living room, sneaking looks at what's on the refrigerator to properly imagine what the house inhabitants are like, collecting snippets of conversation completely out of context. i felt a bit old and unfashionable. meanwhile owen got his glasses knocked off his head, which later broke during his set and later still caused him to chip his tooth which eventually caused the pulling out of the swiss army knife file which ended in fingernails on chalkboard-type filing. ungh. then there was the part of driving the van over the 17, deathly afraid of phantom deer running in front of us, singing along to the lemonheads (shut up. such good singalong music.) with o and drew, and we sounded very good if you don't mind my saying. then meeting back up with becky and brian. then driving driving home to get in late late late, all post-drunk and black-lunged and dead tired. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |