All work and no Play, boy.

I think.

That you guys are right.

I had two hours of sleep last night, I just couldn't sleep, and I was so tired, but I ended up writing a lot of music... I'm kinda stoked about it... ks I'm gonna link you too... LOL.

And I had made plans to go real early in the morning to a dance class and then yoga right after with Celine... I gotta keep myself busy now and I wanna stay in touch with my friends, especially decent classy people... and I finally gave the damn super so much hell, I mean not hell, just like, listen up asshole, no more fucking around or trying to get over on me. And I came home and ALL my shit was fixed. All the clogged sinks and the missing screen and everything.

I hadn't worked out in ages and I ran all the way to the class and then swam cuz I was early and deposited my check in the bank and then did the classes and man-- I love dancing so much-- I love it onstage but I mean this class was like hardcore salsa and I forgot how much FUN dancing is and how much I used to love it before I got so burnt out with the ballet...

And Celine's real cool...

And I'm thinking-- I can't even tell like 99% of these people about my JOB. If I started doing Playboy shit, I mean... There's no hiding that and Kris you're right, it would change the way I see myself, and it would change everything, and for what, $500 bucks? And then a future being a bl0wup doll?

And Bathwater yes. I'm making myself start eating. Pizza sounds amazing but out here on the west coast, well, it's like the same as it was in pennsyltucky... but I lived in NYC when I was in the company and I KNOW pizza. so maybe mexican?

love and lotsa carbs,

S-O

playboy

i could not sleep last night
sigh
it's okay
i was writing a lot... music and stuff.

so the playboy meeting was kinda awesome. the agent was actually way cooler than i expected, we talked about the midwest, and the industry changing, and career plans.

they loved me basically.

but now i don't know. when you start out you're not a Month or a centerfold... just a bunny chick. and it pays SHOCKINGLY little. like any regular magazine shoot... and he told me I'd have to cover up my tats, unless I wanted to do the web thing, and I don't, and to gain 5 pounds-- which would normally be a piece of CAKE-- but right now seems impossible...

And it's so public. It's playboy. and it's not like being a centerfold when you're some famous person. and now everything's on the web forever.

so I don't know, I told him that and he understood... and they have me on file, and to give him a call whenever I decide.

I'm going to just get up now I guess, bone-weary as I am, jog to the gym, meet Celine and take a couple classes that will probably kill my malnourished ass. Then come home, pass out for a bit, and go to work.

That's the plan, Stan.

sik poetix

I know the first step is to Close All Tabs.

I know the second is to Exit Aim.

I know the third is turn off all the lights and the fourth is to lie down. Comfortably.

There's mud in my brain and chocolate cake in my belly, and 150 ccs of cerebrospinal fluid in my brain and 1500 extra kcals in my belly.

I'm so sick and antsy, I want to go running, I wanted to go to work, Vinnie called me, but I'm SICK. I really am, I have like, swollen glands...

I'm so sad and antsy, I want to write Julian because he inspired my thoughts but it just seems such a stupid thing to do, and I'm SICK and full and antsy.

I took a sleeping pill, I hope it works when it kicks in.


I'm worried about the truth and I hope it soon sinks in.

I'm feeling uninspired and I'm feeling kinda dim, and I want to watch a movie but my legs won't stop kicking.

The only way to get these legs to stop is to tire them out, but the rest of my body is tired as it is. I feel really sick and kinda like I'm gonna throw up and I want this person to help me I want to talk to him this person who I want to help me but I have to cut that tie, when I see him tomorrow, if I can refrain from writing him tonight.

I know he'll miss me, I know he'll miss me, I know he'll miss me when I'm gone.

Good Old Murphy

Strikes again...

Whenever I come upon a little decision tree, a selection of beautiful boughs to climb, instead of the barren stark crumbling trunk extended shaky up into foreverness, and I'm happy to see them but overwhelmed and unable to choose, an overzealous lumberjack enters the picture and makes my decision for me and I plummet to the ground and knock out a tooth.

Well that happened.

I was excited about this weekend and seeing my friend, and more so when Emily invited me/us to this show, and the guy from the Vons invited me to a swanky party and turned out to be really cool, and my boss called and actually really wanted me to come to work, and I really had to because I need money, and Kostya was around to record and I really wanted to because I haven't in ages. And I didn't know what to do, and then Friday night my tooth exploded.

It hurt so bad I had to find a walk-in dentist open Saturday morning. And after like the third sleepless night, half-delirious, I walked there, and practically fell asleep in the chair, and couldn't even bite down for the X-rays because it hurt so much. And then a cocky young dentist came in and told me my tooth was infected, the one on which I already had a root canal done, like I thought, like, excuse me how can the hurt? Doesn't it NOT have a nerve? But he didn't answer that, he just told me I could either get the crown removed and redone, or the tooth removed and replaced with an implant, and then went on to tell me I should get my wisdom teeth pulled, and that I had a cavity, as I was like OK I DON'T WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THAT RIGHT NOW. WHAT WILL THIS COST. HOW LONG WILL IT TAKE FOR THE PAIN TO GO AWAY. WHICH SHOULD I DO. WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE, NO, NOT IN THE PROCEDURE, IN WHAT IT MEANS FOR ME, PAIN AND COST-WISE AND RECOVERY TIME-- and he wouldn't ANSWER it was like he didn't even hear me, he started answering about how long the implant nonsense would take and was like Well first you have to wait 5 months for- and I was like OK. Nevermind. And he just kept going until he was done. UGH.

So I ended up doing nothing and now I'm popping Vicodin like Dr. House.

I couldn't even watch Dr. House, speaking of him, last night, because I was so messed up.

So now I did nothing and I feel really on edge... besides the pain... all the Vicodin, and having done nothing, and feeling like I messed everything up, and I have an expensive dental surgery with a bonafide a-hole that I can't afford and maybe no job and no friends and two tests and I won't see John for another bunch of years or get to meet all these people at this party. And I'm really fat again.

Fuck.

Love and losing-my-lunch,

S-O

Turn it off.

I know. I mince words. Like it's Sloppy Joe night. So: Sick. Fat. Frustrated. Lazy. (Strep?) Flake. Tearverged. Disappointed. Car battery dead. Four days now. Shut in. Four days now. All ready, set, strengthgathered to go play at big place in town, too, before discovery.

Joanna flaked, or tried to make it tomorrow. I was, momentarily, just overit.