funny. I guess this is the way to begin this entry.

I keep typing lines, two fingers short as the cigarette dances above the keyboard. I keep writing lines and deleting them. After I deleted the last one, the draft was autosaved. I found that funny. It saved nothing but a intimidating blank white page.

At least it got me writing…

I’ve been briefly going back into my entries from the years back – my time with The Dresden Dolls, posts that lightly mentioned Bean when she was still around physically – like the time Whit, Jenka & I ran out of gas on the way back from Sacremento – I wrote the next day that I would much rather be in bed with Bean instead of the back seat of the car…

Memories are strange. Reading these things that seem like a thousand strange me’s ago brings me back to them in such a haunting way – it’s frequently startling how much my life has changed. I think of my parents – of the stagnant yet secure lives of other people I know – and have absolutely no idea how they call that a life. How can anyone survive without passion, without the excitement of uncertainty; without the growth that comes from being knocked down so fucking hard that it takes everything you can possibly conjure to survive it, and through that you become. Always become more.

Hold on. I’m going to take Clotho off of the ancient speaker that is serving as a desk, and get a bit more comfortable…

Ahh, the transient life. Making do with what is offered. I’ve become quite good at it. Feet up on the speaker, playlist of Bowie and The Dresden Dolls bouncing around – laptop in lap.

Dreaming of possibilities, thinking of the day that will be yesterday in a half hour, and the magick it was. I think that’s the reason for this post –

On a crusade to get some sort of healthy regimen in my life, I woke up, had a smoothie and some Gogi juice, did a great meditation from a CD that Stardust gave me, did a bit of yoga, a bit of working out
, and practiced staff off and on for a couple hours. In the meantime I contacted a yoga instructor who has been reccomended to me by a few people,
and will go to her class on Monday. Also in the meantime I got my first job with my agent who I only officially signed up with three days ago, working with Cameron on the 13th. I am fucking *thrilled*!

I went to meet Andrew who had a job drawing charicatures, and walk about a bit. I got to where he was supposed to be but he wasn’t there, sent home
because of the rain. Fucker should have let me know, but it was nice to get out… During this walk I got a call from Stardust. I don’t frequently
get calls from her – we have a similar idea of phone calls – I will usually only call people to find out where they are if I’m looking for
them, or if I have something important to say. I write much better than I talk on the phone…

She called – I knew what she was up to today, and, because of that, because she called – I answered knowing what might be.

She told me. I was a few blocks from where I am staying at that point, intending to direct myself on an aimless walk, but this call redirected me and I headed “home”.

“Write a resume’ – a performance resume’. Send it to me by midnight tonight. I need to get it to them.”

So, I rushed home, and did. I think – think, I did a decent job, including the testimonials from Clara & Amanda.

If this works out, I will spend the summer in Italy, doing what I love to do more than anything, with the person I love as much as life itself – and getting
paid for it.

I dream. I dream big, and that is what I reach for, my dreams are everything to me, and I work hard to achieve them – in bothe the mundane realm, and the
spiritual one. I am magick – just as you are. Know that you can create anything. Know that there is nothing more powerful than love. Know thatanything is possible.


Imagine. Dream. Create.

There will be times where you may feel as if it is more pain than you can endure, but – you can, and it is more than worth it.

Hell. Eventually, i may be able to write like the things of mine I read earlier, but for the time being –

for the time being, I’ll just put silly little words down – words that are so incredibly unpoetic, gutteral writings with little flair – but hell.

In this strange thing I call my life, I am happy. I do what I can, and I can do so incredibly much.

I mean, fuck – I guess that there must be something special about me, right? I am still alive,

and I am loved.


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