well, to give you an idea, allow me to quote myself (i know, right, how gauche; i never did say i was very polished):

first, from idreamtrain's guestbook, which i tagged up earlier today:

'obviously, henry and june is a hot hot movie. BUT THAT YOU KNOW IT TOO IS SUCH RAD DOGS. it may be the sexiest movie ever. i think this is because i have such a hot sweaty crush on henry miller and have for like my whole life and watching that movie let me almost sort of vicariously have sex with him though obviously not really but still. stop judging me. and unfortunately the anais in the movie was like 8000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 times hotter than the actual anais nin, who though is ok, is not even close to the writer that henry was, which is why i took on the name henry and not anais. if i could, i would sleep with one of his shirts wrapped around my face, and would tie one of his ties around my bare throat and i would roll around in his bed until i orgasmed from a contact henry-high. god...what was i saying? oh yeah! henry and june, my favorite movie, for reals. pillowbook i love, obviously, but yeah, it's not a coke-can. you know, this is really long and i'm not even responding to an entry in my gbook but in snails. but still, i know you know what i am saying. i might copy and paste this whole entry into my diary. i am so glad this highly sexed/really good mood thing is entering its third day. my life totally fucking rules. love, jessica. ps--shaving your head is way fucking hot, i spent my entire time at berkeley with a shaved head. IT MAKES YOUR EYES STAND OUT MORE.'

and now, from an email i just shot off to a friend:

'you photographed your lover naked! that's so euro! and healthy! and beautiful and wonderful and it makes me wish i had a lover right now to take shots of and worhsip their bodies with their skin and their delicate bones and hair that twists up just so and they way they smell and how their voice sounds coming from listening to their chests and how they taste at 3 am and oh!

i am too damn alive today to be sitting in this fucking cubicle! what a terrible and unjust thing for me to have to endure when it is clear that i should be out walking the streets, pulling various ladies and gents off its grey and cracked sidewalk for big sloppy wet doorway kisses and maybe a little game of grab-ass before i leave them gasping and wondering,

"what the fuck was that?"

and then i would twirl about the street on my sexy paint covered slippers and basically by the end of the day be covered in happy stranger lip-prints all over my face, and happy stranger fingerprints all over the ass of my pants.

what a great day!'

i may be too much for this life. i feel as if i am buzzing, literally, with energy. i am excited for everything. i think i am starting to wake up for real. i don't feel manic, i don't feel out of control, i don't feel as if this is a pendulum pull, the obviously counterbalance to whatever deep sadnesses i have inside me. i mean, things are changing, i am changing, i am going to start a new life, i can do whatever i want.

i can do whatever i want.

this makes me so unbelievably happy that i think i am glowing. and i feel beautiful and powerful and interesting (even if only to myself) and wanting to share it with everyone.

for three days! three days i have been in this exceptional mood. my dreams have been full and creative and beautiful and sexy and art. when i wake up i am happy, waking up a few minutes before i have to get out of bed, watching the silver grey into my room through the thin curtains with the small pink and red flowers, petting stuart as my eyes open more widely, as my back stretches and my toes reach for the end of the bed. my skin is almost singing in the shower as i scrub it clean and almost raw, washing off everything. i dance as i get dressed for work. i sit for that extra moment, putting on lipstick, kissing the tissue to blot, enjoying all of this. i am tasting coffee to the last, i am spreading extra strawberry jam on my toast, i am kissing my brother goodbye as he sleeps in his basement, taking the 2 minutes to show him affection because what difference does two minutes make to the people i work with here? who deserves my time and attention more? my best friend in this whole wide world, or the people at my job?

i am singing loudly, i am thinking lustful thoughts, i am looking people in the eye, i am not worrying about anything.

maybe i will revert to total innocence and childlike-ness, and then float up to heaven unexpectedly like remedios the beauty in one hundred days of solitude.

i bet not, though, considering how i have the urge to randomly pick people off the street and give them big kisses that leave them gasping and recollecting themselves as i walk on.

today i was asked by the Queen to write a blurb about my leaving the company for my division's newsletter.

what i wrote went something like this:

'jessica is leaving the company for the midwest on may 3rd in pursuit of a PhD in philosophy. her post graduate-study plans include becoming a university level professor of philosophy."

but what i really wanted to write went more like:

"jessica is leaving the company for the midwest on may 3rd, hoping to shake up her complacent life such that she is knocked awake and gets her shit together. lord knows that wasn't going to happen wasting away in a cube and being Office Bitch for a bunch of sleazy, if not nice sleazy, sales people.

she leaves with a clear conscience regarding all the naps she took, the minutes she fled early and every moment she spent reading or writing rather than attend to her duties as Office Bitch. what she does slightly regret, though, George, is not taking the opportunity to bang you in the ladies restroom or give you a handjob underneath your big executive's desk at least once. you look sexy with your new haircut."

i am hungry but i don't know what i want to get. i want pizza and i want lemonade and i want to feel up that girl i wrote about two days ago with the flimsy white shirt and the hot ass.