Into It.

Again, I love my job.

Sometimes it feels like the only thing I can do well.

I went to this crazy taxidermy demonstration with Emily- she's always on some weird shit like that- and I was debating on going to work, because, well, the money wouldn't hurt, and getting out of the house wouldn't hurt, and sitting at home writing Julian e-mails on Saturday night probably would hurt somebody. But it was like ten to eight and I was still at the taxidermy thing up the straight getting a little antsy and a little nauseous, and Vinnie called me and said, "Casper!"- his new epithet for me, since I disappear all the time, hah- so I said, "Boo." So he laughed and then told me he would love it if I came in tonight if I needed to etc, so how could I say no. And I came in and didn't even go into the dressing room or talk to any girls and sat down and then went onstage and the cash just FLOWED its way onto me all night. I made up my large, large, large outstanding balance to J and then went home.

Man. If I made that much every night and worked like, three times a WEEK... I'd be flowing in it. Like... FLOWING in excess cash. Hahaha. But I feel like it doesn't work that way. Like the more you go in the less you make. For some reason. Just a matter of being over-it I guess.

But I was not over-it last night.

I was into it.

I love dancing. I love spinning. And twirling. And splits. And climbing up and hanging upside down and mouthing all the lyrics to all my songs and scooping up the dollars and throwing them over my head during the chorus.

And I love the mindblown dudes saying "I am here for joo, joo aarre so byoooteefull, what do joo need?"

And saying:

"Hmmm, a hundred? One of those twenties. Two, actually. And another beverage. Thanks much."