the walls we hit. it's tacky.

i would like to inspire the world with my insanely ambitious failures and mistakes.

i would like to cast strindberg's A Dream Play with only two actors and an ambitious technician.

we should all cry in public a lot more. we should extinguish each other's cigarettes with tears.

an 800 mile essentially blind date in like 20 days is no big deal right? like, hey-o no need to freak out just because i invited a stranger to sleep in my bed right? i should hide my valuables. i should wash my sheets. and my jeans. and all the many articles of clothing that have suddenly begin to smell. abruptly, there are a lot of them.

i am so not okay with skool.

is it really so much to ask to feel okay about letting people down and instead going to watch mr. rickman give me his bestest john gabriel. written by my posthumous boyfriend henrik of course.

no one uses boomboxes anymore. i need three.

THEY'RE FOR AN ART PROJECT OKAY. I'M IN COLLEGE MAKING ART WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YR LIFE, OLD-LADY-IN-A-FUR-COAT-FRONT-ROW-SEASON-TICKET-HOLDER-AT-BAM-writing alan's paycheck.

my friend saw daniel radcliffe and hugh jackman tonight at john gabriel borkman. that totally beats me seeing jenna fischer after our town last spring. because they're brits.

i wrote and staged a performance piece on friday entitled "a dream play." it was very short. i wish i could turn that in instead of my strindberg homework.