mid-morning hyperactivity.
the pep'll die down (lacking sleep).
eels. tonight.
after work.

Photo by Julya.

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Warm nights in Sherman Oaks-
Cruising down that boulivard.
Half asleep.
Familiar nostalgia.
Julya and I shared a cheesey moment.
I was compelled to write something,
I couldn't keep that sap to myself.

There were dirty elevators
and a dimly lit stairwell

The monotony of posts in this theme...
I swear, it's the last one.

Muffled sneezes, numb mind.
Muffled thoughts, numb nose.
"Ka-Kaahhhhh!"
The fever's gotten to me.
"Ka-Kaahhhhh!"
And now... I am a bird.
I lied.
I'm not a bird.
I'm just a multicolored brat with a beak.
I lied again.
I don't even have a beak.
But it taint no sin to pretend.

... and the room is lopsided,
or i am.

easter was easter.
pinned on my cotton tail and hippity hopped the family time bop.

o harry belafonte, you make me dance. you make me smile.

i'm very attracted to collarbones and hipbones.
there's something very sexy about human shape.

I did a really godawful job cutting my bangs- I could send Leonard Nemoy into a fit of anti-Trekki tactics.

my hair's pink again. i can't help but imagine myself as coolest lava lamp ever. i need a glass bubble over my head. i'd fill it with water and hold a flashlight under my chin. it'd be the most amazing thing those paramedics've ever seen.

the shifting of moods from green to red.
i'm in what the natives call a "funk" (funk, grandmaster). a hazey glaze over what seemed to be a half decent day.