It really is easy to forget how the act of writing and reading will eventually organize your mind. And it’s not a fifteen minute thing, it’s when you’ve written all the bullshit already, let the little wish-distractions take shape then leave that your mind finally finds its voice.
I’ve been overloading. I watched Rent Monday night. The songs are still playing in my head. You’ve got to love a play where a drag queen and her lover, a professor who was fired for being gay and HIV-positive are the models for a good relationship. Was met with cold when i got out. Now i understand what a heater is for.
yesterday, i walked around the san diego zoo alone. then had the most delicious spinach ravioli then watched pride and prejudice. have been watching episodes of a show named firefly. it’s right up there with west wing and my so-called life. heehee. maybe i’ll have a longer discussion of firefly once i’m settled back home.
i also finished all families are psychotic by douglas coupland.
there are a couple of books of poetry by my bed but i would rather flip through pages of my tita’s vogue and bazaar. have you seen this month’s vogue? it has keira knightley as dorothy and all these modern art people as characters from the wizard of oz. wow.
oh, i woke up shouting yesterday. bad dream. for some reason, there were colorful HUUUUGE frogs invading the room i was sharing with all these other people. they wouldn’t do anything if you didn’t move and if they did, it’s okay — you were expected to kill them. and there was this one big, bad-ass one colored turquoise blue with yellow gold flecks that stayed beside me on my bed, oh they’re not human sized yet ha. they’re just big. like as big as my head. and it jumped and i screamed and someone cut its head off —- and out poured yellow blood that looked more like oil paint than blood.
i keep thinking about the princes and how kisses can mean so much.
or just be a bloody mess.