So I watched "Adaptation" for the first time
ever
last night, with Jason & Tristan
& I really, really liked it.

I'm working on a big drawing of an elephant for Courtney's baby's room.
Slowly, surely, etc.

Yep.

That's about it.

If I write something in here everyday, maybe I'll remember how to write.
Or at least how to blog.
I've forgotten both.

the good news is that tristan is
singing a song about peacocks that he wrote
to me on my bed
right now.

my thanksgiving was fine, thanks for asking.
tristan is back & i'm really stoked about it.
halloween was cool, too, i guess.

i tried to put my two weeks in at acme
but failed miserably.

i'm making christmas cards for everyone/thing
& i like doing it
but it's kind of stressful.

this is always a bad time of year
for me.
it's especially hard this year.

i still can't believe that my sister is dead.

consider this blog failed attempt number 4,659.

at least now i know what i'd like to be when i grow up.

holy hands.

we left at 10:30 saturday night
for a day at The Harbor Howse in california,
listening to love jams & andrew wk,
stopping at a gas station so that i could draw a self-portrait in the bathroom.
before midnight we were on the side of the highway giving our licenses to cops
who refused to give them back.
taught ryan how to drive stick as we flipped them off.
need to learn how to ride the bus.
in california we got frozen yogurt & had sex & fell in love.
i'm very busy these days.

been spray painting any/every thing.
drawing pictures with secrets in them.
drinking white wine & talking shit.
being helpful.
making pizzas & watching music.
working.





i love your life.

from the top of the ocean.

moved a filthy orange couch into the living room.

started painting the oak table & chair set for the breakfast nook.

continuing daily self-portrait project.

paid a bill or two.

ate a garden burger with jalapenos on top.

wrote a letter.

parked the wrong direction on a residential street.

counted to twelve about a thousand times.

not necessarily in that order.

scabs, bruises.

why don't i feel the same drive to shower as every other human?
i just hate making time for it.
even if i'm filthy & there's really nothing else i need to be doing.
i prefer to swim. chlorine is the soap that matters.
swimming is really important to me. not in an exercise-y way, obviously,
since all i really do is float around & do handstands & stuff.
you hear about crippled kids feeling "free" or "normal" or something when they're in a pool.
i feel the same way. maybe i'm a crippled kid. or a mermaid.

having t-sauce work at acme is working out nicely.

i had a revelation about the nature of my relationships,
involving my need to be loved & filling that need through several negative behaviors that ultimately end in my being their mothers.
which is bad.
i'm working on it, aiight?

i think the point is,
i'm a stinky crippled needy kid.

celebrity pop culture is meaningless to me.

i'm a stinky crippled needy boy kid.