I was cleaning out the closet and found my old dream journal. After flipping through, I decided to share a few random entries.

July 26, 2000
I was talking to Vinnie, but it was so weird because I was talking in a man's voice. Then, suddenly, Vinnie morphed into a dog...

April 4, 2001
My parents were eating this dish with boiled shrimp in it after I'd warned them not to. A little while later they were nauseated, and I was laughing my ass off at them, yelling "I told you so!" As soon as the words left my mouth, I took a giant swig from a glass of milk, only to find that it was sour and curdled. I hauled ass into the kitchen and started gaging in the sink. It was all slimy and stuck in my throat, and I couldn't breathe. When I woke up I was pushing drool out the side of my mouth with my tongue. It was all over my cheek and pillow. Thank god I sleep alone.

December 29, 2003
I'm riding around New Orleans with Robert Downey Jr. He's driving and though the radio isn't on, he's singing Prince's "I Wanna Be Your Lover." He sounds awful, all off-key and shit, so I tell him as much, and he reaches over and pimp slaps the hell out of me like Ike Turner... then the phone woke me up.

January 2, 2004
I'm in the living room. Suddenly, a cockroach takes off from in front of the phone and soars straight at me. I start screaming and flailing about hysterically. I wake up actually swinging in the air and making weird guttural sounds.


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Let me just put this out there: Am I the only one who doesn't really believe in god, yet prays at night anyway... just in case. It's the ultimate act of hypocrisy. On the one hand, I feel like a jackass for praying to a god I don't quite believe exists; on the other hand, I feel like an asshole if I don't pray for the betterment of my family, friends, and the world in general. If there is a god out there hearing my bullshit prayers, I'm sure he couldn't be more impressed with my lack of faith. If there is no god, then I'm wasting a good 10 to 15 minutes a night stressing over crap I have no control over, thereby depressing myself before bedtime, and laying down a solid foundation for fucked up nightmares. Or if I'm really lucky, a blissful night of insomnia. And the pendulum swings....

Also, while I'm on the subject of hypocrisy: I often sneer and have contempt for those who persistently seek out companionship, hopping from one relationship to the next, unable to function without a significant other. I've been a loner my whole life. I hate the whole singles scene. Clubbing gives me migraines. The opposite sex? A disappointment thus far. Needless to say, I live a pretty solitary life, and I've always been ok with that. I'm not anymore. I woke up today and decided I'm just as needy, lonely, and fucked up as the next person (moreso). Then there's the sharp realization that a lifetime of being a loner has made me socially retarded and unable to meet anyone new. Now there's a happy thought. My very own self-created drama. Someone somewhere is saying I told you so.

Shit, I really thought I'd made it through Valentine's Day unaffected. The crafty bitch caught me 3 days later. And now I've rambled far more than I intended like a perfect fool. Eh, don't bother commenting on this one. It would probably just be awkward.


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Mötley Crüe is coming to New Orleans in February, and I am dead broke. I am beyond consoling, people. There have been quite a few bands that I've missed the last couple of years, but this one stings particularly bad.

I never feel more alive than when I'm at a concert. Maybe that's sad? I don't know, but music is life. I can't even imagine the buzz musicians must get up on that stage. Gotta be better than sex.

I'm curious about what concerts you guys have been to. What's your top 3? Mine would have to be:
1. Incubus
2. A Perfect Circle
3. A tie between Mudvayne and Keith Urban (weird combo, I know)

My worst concert experience? Seeing Bush back in '96..'97? I had a horrific experience on the floor and got my long hair stuck in a dipshit crowd-surfer's boot. The lesson being? Don't wear your hair down if you're on the floor. That, and don't see Bush in concert, because it's an embarrassing admission, and you'll feel shame in your latter years.


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A good while back I started to paint (in PS) one of my portraits. Unfortunately, I lost the file in a reformat when I was about 80% finished. Painting does not come easy for me, particularly using a mouse, and I really thought it looked quite good at the time and was severely pissed that I lost it. Having said all that, I decided to risk the inevitable eye problems and try to paint it again. So I started it again, and I'll be damned if it doesn't look like refried ass. I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing, and can't find the tutorial I was using back when I painted the first one (also lost in the crash). I'm fucking disgusted with the whole thing now and want to throw in the towel. Shit.

I've also come to the unsettling realization that I've logged in more hours on my nephew's Guitar Hero than on my actual guitar which I've owned for... 7... 8 years? I feel shame. I also feel withdrawals.


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Happy Holidays, my pretties! That is all.


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