no result for a. bird's 'sovay.'

before i was shot, i always thought that i was more half-there than all-there – i always suspected that i was watching TV instead of living life. people sometimes say that the way things happen in movies is unreal, but actually it's the way things happen in life that's unreal. the movies make emotions look so strong and real, whereas when things really do happen to you, it's like watching television – you don't feel anything. right when i was being shot and ever since, i knew that i was watching television. the channels switch, but it's all television.

-andy warhol.

when the night becomes day.

im going to keep going with a subject. that of my lack o' sleep.

last night as i was laying down and drifting off [thanks to unisom], i started thinking. and the thinking was absolutely beautiful.
i realized that i wish i had a pen and paper to write down everything that went through my mind as i slipped away.
the thoughts were amazing. and everything made so much sense. it was amazing.
i could write a beautiful poem or song or play or story or screenplay or paper or anything during that time.
just give me a bit of exhaustion and a comfy pillow and you have the recipe for genius.

now if only i can relay it into real life and real time.
there is the catch that only the greatest accomplish.

check.

just came in from the san francisco bay.

oh the bittersweet fighting of sleep.
i find that in the past week, sleep has not come easy to me. in fact, it has come quite difficultly.
thus, my mind races with nonsensical [sometimes sensical] ideas, dreams, random shallow-dream-esque thoughts that all mold into one in the dark.

and tonight i am thinking of memories. the making of new ones and the resurfacing of old ones.
this past weekend i went to san francisco. beautiful, amazing city. cannot wait to return.
it truly is a foreign city on american soil.
and yet, as i return to marysville this evening, i cannot sleep. i believe its the mixture of the-excitement-of-the-vacation-being-over sadness mixed with anticipation to return to tennessee [and theatre...thank goodness]. so thus, i instantly netflixed a favorite movie of my past [my much younger past]...

new memory [and an addition to chaucer's traveling album]:


and the nextflixing of christmas past:


ah...good, goodnight.

you're a well rehearsed cliche.

i am newly addicted to the reading entertainment that is charlaine harris.
it causes me to emote immensely, often throwing the book to hysterical bouts of laughter and fits of rage.

how lovely.
i just love books books books.
i wish i read them slower.

don't believe all the who-hay.

my favorite michael jackson quote.
in reference to him talking to a reporter:

" Why not just tell people I'm an alien from Mars. Tell them I eat live chickens and do a voodoo dance at midnight. They'll believe anything you say, because you're a reporter. But if I, Michael Jackson, were to say, 'I'm an alien from Mars and I eat live chickens and do a voodoo dance at midnight,' people would say, 'Oh, man, that Michael Jackson is nuts. He's cracked up. You can't believe a damn word that comes out of his mouth.'"

—Michael Jackson

sweet, sweet Michael. RIP.

its stored in my cache.

drop.
she sneezes.
'bless you,' he says.

there is a long pause. all that can be heard is the slow drip of the leaky faucet and the hum of the refrigerator.

the refrigerator shuts off.
drip.

'bless you, i said,' he repeats.

'no. i didnt feel that,' she said. 'the sneeze, i couldnt feel it.'

i cannot convey.

i have always thought of myself as a healthy eater. but i promise you, the new dunkin donuts nearest my abode will be the death of me [point to conan]. blueberry cake donuts are a staple of my childhood.
and hello iced french vanilla coffee with cream and sugar.
american runs of dunkin...into their glutton, artery clogged graves.


oh no.
atleast they are not serving ice cream sundaes like krispy kreme is about to be.
krispy kreme just wants the world to die faster.