when i leave this place, in exactly 50 days including weekends, i will take the elvis calendar my boss gave me yesterday and all the union stickers.

there is nothing on these walls that i brought from home, so i can leave everything else. on one of my (3-cube) walls there used to be a polaroid of the pacific ocean that my brother and i took a little while ago when we werer both in so cal at the same time.

we sat on the side of the pch, with our legs hanging over the edge of not-really-a-cliff and used my new polaroid camera to snap at the water. the one i took is over-developed and poorly centered. lots of rocks and not enough sky.

i took it down off the wall the first time i really felt the scalding hate for this place that has built up inside me. i have it in my bag still, folded into the setlist i grabbed from one of the juno shows i went to, and tied together with the postcards that have followed me from job to job.

i took those off the wall too.

i feel like burning those, actually.

i should send them away. if anyone wants one, let me know.

in other news, i have been writing the worst emails ever today to franny. i have been so distracted and strange all morning. now afternoon. whatever.

i found a new diary via this guy's profile, and it may just be my new favorite diary. in it, he says, and this is a direct quote:

"I usually emit an odor that is equal parts working man and night before."

is that or is that not, ladies (and gentlemen), one of the more sexy things you have read in quite some time? i think it is. american culture (except for pockets like pdx and sf and berkeley and WhatNot) really really underestimates the power that smell has in sexual attraction. did you know that italian men used to rub their fun zone with their handkerchiefs before putting them in their breastpockets when they were going to a ball? totally true, and smart. that way, their dance partners would be enticed to do it with them just from pheromonal response.

i know--dirty!

i think snailo knows what i am talking about, though i am pretty sure that lu is hoggling right now. she is, afterall, just like my mother in this respect.

not me, though. i think that stuff is awesome. totally awesome.

i think my space cadetedness is due to the fact that i slept for like 11 hours last night. i laid down for a sesh and a nap and woke up at like 3 in the morning. i am starting not to be bothered by this anymore, particularly since my cousin is staying with us. i mean, he's a very nice, sweet gentle boy, but i feel awkward around him because i don't really know him and he is, mannerisms-wise, my dad. my dad!

my dad, whom i love dearly, makes me more nervous than a black cat on halloween. or something.

so, i have been hanging out in my room a lot the last couple of days.

i am not a nice person, this confirms it. and i feel badly about it. but not badly enough, it seems.

plus, i had all manner of fucked up dreams last night, which i can barely recall, but i know in one of them, i was shooting a big gun, and it was really hot.

this song i'm listening to, "to cry about" by mary margaret o'hara is really beautiful and it's making everything go in slow motion, even my daydreaming. everything is the slow guitar and the empty spaces between her soft broken words.

i am daydreaming of wide open fields and driving a truck past farms with ribbons tied up in my hair and my best friend in the passenger seat. she's laughing and leaning forward to rest her head on the dash.

i'm daydreaming of roadtrips to nashville and memphis to buy souvenirs and belt buckles. i'm daydreaming of funding her for the whole thing, with dinners and beers and midline hotel rooms with nice bathrooms so she can take a bath while i break open the minibar. i'm daydreaming of drunken photobooth adventures with me kissing her cheeks in every frame.

i'm always thinking of the details, dear.