greetings my strangers, friends, lovers, and concubines.

 

i appreciate you taking time out of your busy, windy, absurdly, redundant, unpredictable, outrageously, frightening, beautifully laced morning, day, or night (depending) to read my ness.  and by "ness," i mean many a thing.  i mean my words, my thoughts, my soul, my story, my hysteria, my truth, my lesson, my love, my life, my ness.  you are something, you know that?  and if you're not something, then you're nothing.  and though that makes little solid sense, it sure does sound logical to me.  something.  nothing.  everything.  some. no. every.  thing.

 

wait, what?  i love when i confuse myself.

 

one of my best friends (the wonderfully pretty girl whose soul has been connected with mine for 10 years plus and who drove with me across this big great country of ours to ensure my arrival a safe and happy one in california) is sort of missing.  and by "sort of missing," i mean basically missing but not really.  we know she is in boston because that is where she lives.  well, we think that's where she is.  that's where she is likely to be.  if she's not there i am going to murder her.  well, actually, i will not commit homicide.  but i might mangle her.  assault is better than homicide.  she has fallen in love with the kind of guy who disturbs her mother and who makes her friends wonder where the fuck her brains went.  her phone has been turned off and no one has heard from her in weeks.  this is unusual and atypical behavior.  sort of.  i guess she's more complicated than i ever thought she was.  what a whore.  two of my new york loves are going to drive to boston this weekend to smack her in the face with reality, with the hopes that she will wisen up and stop being all weird and illusive.  i am worried and annoyed.  i want to see her.  talk to her.  evaluate the situaiton.  lay the smackdown.  things of this nature.  i can't wait for transporters to come into our lives by way of unbelievable, scientific, technological advancements. 

 

i met a boy when i was drunk (but controlled and aware) and waiting for another boy who had left me stranded to pee (an endeavor he embarked on that was unknown to me at the time..hence the word "stranded") in a loud and somewhat scary (only because there were drunk men abundant who found it impossible to leave me alone) beach town on july fourth (which, by the way, was excellently fun, despite my (our) missing the fireworks which is apparently the essence of our freedom now-a-days.  i kept saying "happy fourth of america" instead of "happy fourth of july" because i'm odd and like to say things that kind of make sense but don't really).  so, in my time somewhat freaking out due to my intense fear that the boy i was with had left me for dead (and by dead i mean harassed, lost, and drunk in a place that was unfamiliar to me), i met this young man who i am to re-meet and share my company with tonight.  expectations are nonexistent.  this has become the utmost of games (dating/trying to find real love) and i am slowly becoming indifferent and jaded.  sad, i know.  but perhaps it will be a dandy time.  i won't know until it happens. 

 

i am submitting my artwork to a gallery of sorts.  i hope they don't reject me.

 

i introduced two of my musician friends who have now formed a band which they claim/hope will be ferociously successful.  i told them i want to be in the band.  one of them laughed and said no.  the other wasn't as mean.  the one (who happens to be the lovely gent who "stranded" me to pee on the fourth of america) who denied me this right told me i was broke, couldn't play an instrument, couldn't contribute any equipment, and so was basically foolish to think i might be a nice addition (he is sort of right).  though he didn't outwardly call me a fool.  he suggested i might be a fine groupie or roadie.  i told him to fuck off.  my singing and writing is what would get me in, though i don't sing in front of people and the only way people read what i write is through this thing.  and this thing doesn't, couldn't, house all my writing.  so maybe i can wiggle my way in.  maybe i can't.  mabye i want to but only in my dream world.  maybe i will be a cool, hip, bad-ass, musical legend in another life.  or maybe i already was.  whatever the case may be, at least i'll have cool, rich, rock-star friends if they make it big.  and i can take some of the credit, if not all the credit, as i am the mastermind behind it all.  sort of. 

 

i bet fifty percent of those reading my blog are not wearing underwear.

 

not wearing underwear is cool.

 

but not as cool as the sky.

 

 

let's all take a second to hope that one of my very dearest friends is alive and well, and will be found laying in a field of flowers while sipping wine with a sweetly dressed gentlemen whose lap is home to her sweetly laying head.  let's hope my time with this strange boy i met goes well, and my fatigued love soul is reignited by his fire.  let's hope my art makes it into the gallery and is loved and adored by all and is sold for a significant amount of money so i can stop being broke and so my art can be seen by more than myself and my roommates.  let's hope that my precious musical friends stop being gay and let me sing in their band.

 

let's hope that there is invented not only transporters, but an easier way to do one's laundry, as in the year 2007 there has to be a less annoying, more prompt way to clean one's clothes. 

 

underwear are stupid.

 

but you are not.

 

x0x0x0.