a girl's whose name begins and ends with "a"

-waking up to loft windows on the bright side of st. laurent, even if it's under construction

-going to your first reviewing assignment, of a french film

-said film opening with a Jackson Five song that will define your day

-being a guinea pig for half an hour for two movie passes

-being hit with the sudden inspiration to make dumplings and finding a new kind of pocky

-making dumplings to "The Score"

-serving a revolving door of dumpling eaters

-spontaneous visiters that come bearing lasagna

-kickass roomates with endless jokes and cute outfits

-pictures of kissy faces by your man

-oreo ice cream

-actually making friends with deadlines

-paying gigs finding ME and not the other way around

-this girl.

brows. i never really noticed that before, until i looked at a picture that i didn't know i had recently, and realized that my whoopi goldberg gene seems to have come from her. i knew about the big hair, but other than that, i'm pretty much my pops. she's tall and skinny, doesn't seem to smile with teeth and doesn't have very pronounced eyes. but my brows are all hers.

never content to leave things on a pessimistic note, i've decided to snap myself out of this funk by stating that my next project is a letter writing campaign to a select few (who may or may not ever receive/read the letters) but the point is that i write them. i mean, for tittyfuck's sake, that's what i DO, right?

the aforementioned letters will be entitled: dear (someone who has impacted my life), i write you this letter in hopes of finally forgiving myself....

exhaling,

AA.

wow, just for shits and giggles, i decided to search my own archives. what was i doing in february 2006? deciding that i need to move from main street to nyc, getting myself back into an eeb and flow like relationship with a fire horse, and feeling a general malaise about things, albeit an optimistic one at that. february 2005? i moved to main street, was getting ready to go to nyc for the first time, and was in the heyday of a short lived relationship with a cat from montreal who just decided to run away shortly after. what am i doing now? i'm getting ready to move to the main, just felt a pang from that "not quite that do right, dare i even call it, love" and mutually decided with a montreal cat to work through our first rough patch. guess that makes me two up. i'm triumphant because s2s made me squeal in her ear. that and i've discovered her home is a haven for unmailed post, just like my own.

we're back to this again?! shit. it will pass, it will pass, it will manifest in some crazy performance art at the book launch. ok. breathe. whatever, lucifer. don't make me call out your name hm-m-m.

but i DO love the free ELSEWHERE mixtape, bigup vancity, making me proud and shit. good looks. in the current adbusters (which i felt compelled to buy today and read from cover to cover) there lies this lovely quote: "now there's a growing movement around the world-a new kind of freedom fight-to be free of our brand of me-first freedom. so, my lunar new year of the lovers' resolution is to embrace being bound. let's get tied up.

i hear she's never satisfied.

aaaaarrrrggggghhhh.

relationships. fuck. because it's late and i've been up for too long and need to film 17,000 clips tomorrow, i'll give the reader's digest version for once in my life.

the problem when i date people who do less things than me comes when they view me as fodder for their entertainment or they have nothing going on of their own so i have no respect for anyone who will just sit around and wait.

multi-tasking individuals titilate me so, and that is very important, obviously.

but busy muthafuckas never have any god damned time to see you.

and i need a lot of fucking attention, i'm not good at pretending that i'm ok with the fact that a week will go by without so much as a call or email and i don't think i'm going to be able to change this about myself.

i'm not sure i have to.

but maybe i should.

patience was never one of my virtues.

fuckity fuckerton.

whomever stole yarah bravo's computer should be hit by a bus.