Since you asked...

Recently, en route to a party, my friend mentioned, in passing, that his friend from Boulder, Colorado was visiting. "that's cool," I thought. "Maybe we can compare coffee shops and gripe about things." When we arrived, however, I realized she was Lauren, the mysterious girl friend of a good friend of mine. So... here's the deal. ONCE YOU ARE CAPTURED INTO THE BOULDER SOCIAL GROUP YOU WILL NEVER ESCAPE. Here I am, thousands of miles away in Bostonia, meeting factions of the same people-circle as I did in Boulder. Ugh ugh ugh.

I want to make a dress. Sew sew sew.

You don't exist anymore. I beg you, please, leave me alone.
I want to go swimming. I want to sleep. I have spying equipment.

Chocolate cupcakes and tea came just in time. Sometimes it's just so great to see old friends.

Every other night or so, four large spot lights twist and wind across the sky in a complex pattern. After thoroughly examing the evidence, I've come to the only possible conclusion: Boston has super heros, and this is their call.

I'm recovering from the weekend, which mostly entails trying to wash eye make-up off my face and various gels or sprays out of my hair. The activities from this weekend included, but were not limited to, practicing body and face paint for Rossencrantz and Gildenstern are dead and dressing up in fishnets, short shorts and gold high heels.

If I could record all of my composed songs (most around 45 seconds) I'd have a ten minute album that would album that would pack quite a punch.

Spent the day on slow-moving trains making my way back to Boston. The usually lazy and empty trip, which I traditionally spend sprawled out across two large deep-reclining seats reading almost the entire Sunday NYTimes and sleeping over the nine hour day became a crowded, jostling cold 12-hour endeavour. All the flights from New York to Boston had been cancelled, so people bombarded the other forms of transportation.

One of the nice things about traveling by train is the dining car. Today I shared my table with a mis-placed traveler who split her bottle of red wine with me, so... I was rather drunk.

But the old man, who I sat next to later, with his bright red new red converse, and his pictures of his 20-something wife and one year old infant daughter, who was going to see a famous professor, who was an artist. He was totally the man. I sat next to him because he wanted to read my New York Times. He lives in Spain, and he paints pictures with light. When I switched trains I sat down, and read an article, incidentally, about the woman I had eated with earlier. (She's opening a new type of chocolate shop.)

Seating on trains is always fortuitous. I sat down to eat and got up with half of a bottle of red wine in my stomach and a place to stay in South America this summer, which will come in handy when I go.

On spring-like nights in my neighborhood, there are lines out the door for cafes, bakeries, restaurants. Standing on my roof you can hear the honking horns, the laughing crowds. Men in long coats smoking cigars, gaggles of quaffed girls. Venturing out for a piece of pizza makes you feel as if you're in the center of a busy city.

Tonight, however, a Noreaster is headed our way. The fog illuminates the entire city in a tantilizing diffused light, and the only sound, save the incensant dripanddrop of drainage on metal roofs is a lone whilster, navigating the narrow streets. I can almost map his entire route as we wonders around.

You just HAVE to have to have to hear the new techno-version of the brokeback mountain soundtrack. It's to die for, TO DIE FOR!

Sometimes, things confuse me. Like techno. It's just so, upsetting.


DId anyone else read the book "Georege Shrinks," as a child? George le phone, the cartoon version, i saw this morning. It was good.

Walking through the dark entryway of our apartment, and this is what my days have become. In the yellow light and she was playing that sweet song. He's gone, back to New York. You get used to things. Sleeping in an empty bed becomes restless. But I have dreams of crisp khakis, white linen t's, wide-brimmed hats, big bugs and big sturdy black boots. Watches with sturdy silver bands.

Wow. Tomorrow I don't have anywhere to be until five pm. I haven't had a free weekend day in six weeks. I hardly know what to do with myself.