i can't lift you up because my mind is tired

things are happening IRL and they are making me alive. the aliveness is scary and overwhelming and new and rare and good. i am unsure whether by aliveness i mean optimism. they could be similar. i am unused to optimism. like i am trying on high heeled shoes and, despite associating high heeled shoes with brainlessness, the shoes are oddly comfortable or at least not making my ankles bleed. right now i am walking around the store in gaits uncharacteristic of myself, thinking of height, mythology and shoplifting.

i am on the cusp of certain things. i am trying to claw into a potential career in fair trade or the entertainment industry. because i can think of no two career paths more congruous. i crave variety and choice. routine is for some people but for others routine is cancer. if none of this works out i will move to saskatchewan and become an apple farmer.

los angeles is a place. mostly los angeles is shallow and intended to give people low outward self esteem and high inward self esteem. los angeles also has a surface and a subsurface. there are pockets. if you stay in the subsurface you can enjoy yourself. you can stop feigning interest in the surface. in the subsurface the conversations, the skin, the sweat is real and the real is enough to melt through all the plastic and when that happens the sidewalk will be shiny and you can laugh and walk through the melted fakeness and it will feel like marshmallow around your ankles. probably because i watched ghostbusters yesterday.

this is my friend avey. he is a little bit beautiful. sometimes he asks the sky what he would want.



this is my friend geologist.


he is not an actual geologist but he likes to see at night. he also was interviewed a while back in the fine magazine kitty snacks.

here is what they played



fireworks being my personal highlight. i went inward. i felt thousands of eyes rolling backward. there was a momentary lapse of consciousness. there was a shamanistic divining ceremony. it was right mystic. TTB would approve.

recent dreams include a sunken airplane with its contents and passengers perfectly preserved as they were at the point of impact.

recent discoveries include the fact that 1. soju facilitates karaoke, even if you are socially awkward, 2. if you intend to perform the spasmodic seizure/flail dance to idioteque, move the soju away from microphones and other karaoke equipment to minimize electrocution, and 3. soju is delayed in fucking you up but it will find and destroy you.

also catching up on and enjoying being overwhelmed by all the internet literature news of late. i love love love prathna lor's safe toilet syndrome. prathna lor, blog deletion extraordinaire. prathna lor is hot. my favourites include vulcan, blue sweater, light bulb and somnolence. i am glad i am not the only one who fills her bed with debris and sleeps in it. maybe we should do lunch, prathna lor.

also excited about the new pear noir!, mlkng sckls by justin sirois, a field of colors by charles lennox in tandem with j.a. tyler's ML press, new things at dogzplot (new to me anyway), the new hobart, and sam pink's frowns need friends too.

still need to return correspondence.
news is forthcoming.