Dear Mr.Gita,

You never had to promise you would help me out
financially while I was in school.

You seemed so sweet, like you were sincerely open and
loving,and that you truly wanted me to focus on school
and could bear the financial burden-because it would
make both happier in the long run.

Unfortunately that isn't what happened. What happened
was you decided that I was just a leech, and you
weren't going to help me out-you were going to spend
that money as you saw fit.

In the three months I was unemployed before coming out
here I was hit with 4,000 dollars in fees.These were
bills you said you were paying.

So now I have to drop out of school and pay not only
the debt that I earned fair and square-but the debt I
accrued while unknowingly defaulting on my bills.

The hurt,sadness,and anger that I feel is more than I
can put into words.

It really comes down to you choosing drugs and booze
over our relationship. That is where any of your
disposable income was going.

I have sacrificed having any real emotional connection
to anyone for about a year-I have sacrificed any kind
of sexual relationship for just as long. I got so
depressed I couldn't even get out of bed until I came
here.

I wanted to save this relationship.

And the worst part is you have blamed me and I let
you. I took it all in under my skin and felt bad about
me

I kept thinking if I looked better or made more money
you would treat me right.

I never should have sunk so deep into sadness that I
even thought that way.

I stuck around and got all fucked up and let the
sickness take over.

Not anymore.

I don't know what the solution is,but I would say an
apology is in order. I don't really expect one.

I know what my mistakes are-but just because I may
have been wrong-doesn't make you in the right. So
don't twist this.
-mg


________________________________________

so I have been communicating with this guy in Italy. Mostly on MSN.

we write in Italian and in English-which I find interesting.

what is interesting is not the mix but when we each choose to use each language.

I am pretty sure he uses english when he doesn't want anyone in the house to know what he is saying. I use Italian to be closer to him.

I really should study linguistics, the psychology of language. I love it.

Back to Memphis...

not looking forward to it...but If return to Memphis I can make the money I need to do what I want.

see you on august 10th

Restriction...

So as many as of you know-I have an unhealthy relationship with food.

Last time I reached the weight I am now, I began to restrict food and lost 60 lbs or about 30 chili.

It took me about a year to get back to to a more normal weight, and up until the last year or so, I kept about half of it off.

But I tried to build a more positive outlook and feed myself-even if it meant a little more cushion for the pushing...

well, I think I am done with that...

yesterday I caught myself restricting....

part of it is stress,part of it is about control...

things have been so unstable restriction gives me a way to focus. It is about eating a piece of bread and not eating a whole sandwich.I have the power to make that decision-versus being powerless in other areas. like everywhere else.seriously.

When I was at my worst I would carry fig bars with me, so when my blood sugar crashed I could eat the bars and get somewhere before I passed out.

On a average day I would eat
1 bagel with tofu
1 fig bar or apple
1 caffe latte
1 gelato

If I ate more than that I would go to the gym.

Then I went to Italy in 99-2000 and rediscovered food.

and once I went to Calabria-it was really over. Over Pasquedd I probably put on 10 lbs. When I got back to Firenze people kept saying "ti trovi bene in Italia" which is a polite Italian way of saying "girl you have been doing some eating". Capretto, fegato di maiale al forno,ricotta affumicata,mozzerella di bufala...latte di capra, fresca,riscaldata con miele e canella...mmmmmm....vino di casa....funghi porcini impanati....mmmmmmmmmmm....You can't be a lover of food and restrict in Italy...it is impossible...it would be like an alcoholic renting a room in a pub.Or Tidy moving next to a so-co factory (:

I am not writing this as some weird cry for help or anything. I know it is silly. I also think starving yourself on purpose is some twisted rich white girl problem. Like you have money-you can have all the food you want-but you starve to feel pretty. When there are people who starve without choice. It is selfish.

That said-even when I worked out everyday, didn't drink, and ate as healthy as a person could eat without going apeshit-I was always pressured to lose weight. I have always been curvier than my female counterparts-all the women in my family are.Russian women and thick.So basically I am cursed-plus I am getting on in years.

I don't know...it is just a constant source of frustration. blah.until then-some scenic shots of italy

Seaweed tangled in our home from home
Reminds me of your rocky bottom
Please don't wait for the paperweight
Err on the good side
Touch us when we collapse
Into the water we'll go head over heel
We'll not grow fat inside
The mammary gland
Into the water we'll go
Head over heel
A head behind me
Buried deep in the sand

by Robert Wyatt

I guess I just missed the Robert Wyatt class in school. This weekend I have been downloading his solo and collaborative works....he was before his time. I want to love someone the way he lovs Alifib.

My head is already in europe....I can feel it coming on...Picture me walking through "La Marais"...I will stay in Rue Rivoli...I will go to the North African cafe and drink star anise tea, eat brick...Quand c'est nuit, je voudrais bere vin chaud et faire un promenade dans le rue du Paris...Man I gotta jump ship kids...until then a little George Brassens


George Brassens...

Chanson Pour L'auvergnat

Elle est à toi cette chanson
Toi l'Auvergnat qui, sans façon,
M'a donné quatre bouts de bois
Quand dans ma vie il faisait froid.

Toi qui m'a donné du feu quand
Les croquantes et les croquants
Tous les gens bien intentionnés
M'avaient fermés la porte au nez.

Ce n'était rien qu'un feu de bois
Mais il m'avait chauffé le corps
Et dans mon âme, il brûle encore
À la manière d'un feu de joie...

Toi, l'Auvergnat quand tu mourras
Quand le croc-mort t'emportera
Qu'il te conduise à travers ciel
Au père éternel.


Elle est à toi cette chanson
Toi l'hôtesse qui, sans façon,
M'a donné quatre bouts de pain
Quand dans ma vie il faisait faim.

Toi qui m'ouvrit ta huche quand
Les croquantes et les croquants
Tous les gens bien intentionnés
S'amusaient à me voir jeuner.

Ce n'était rien qu'un peu de pain
Mais il m'avait chauffé le corps
Et dans mon âme, il brûle encore
À la manière d'un grand festin...

Toi, l'hôtesse quand tu mourras
Quand le croc-mort t'emportera
Qu'il te conduise à travers ciel
Au père éternel.


Elle est à toi cette chanson
Toi l'étranger qui, sans façon,
D'un air malheureux m'a sourit
Lorsque les gendarmes m'ont pris.

Toi qui n'a pas applaudi quand
Les croquantes et les croquants
Tous les gens bien intentionnés
Riaient de me voir rammené.

Ce n'était rien qu'un peu de miel
Mais il m'avait chauffé le corps
Et dans mon âme, il brûle encore
À la manière d'un grand soleil...

Toi, l'étranger quand tu mourras
Quand le croc-mort t'emportera
Qu'il te conduise à travers ciel
Au père éternel.



______________________________

Fabrizio de Andre...get out your translation widgets kids


The Testament of Tito

Non avrai altro Dio all'infuori di me spesso mi hai fatto pensare;
genti diverse venute dall'est dicevano che in fondo era uguale:
credevano ad un altro diverso da te, non mi hanno fatto del male,
credevano ad un altro diverso da te, non mi hanno fatto del male.
Non nominare il nome di Dio, non nominarlo invano.
Con un coltello piantato nel fianco gridai la mia pena ed il suo nome:
ma forse era stanco, forse troppo occupato, non ascolto il mio dolore;
ma forse era stanco, forse troppo lontano, davvero lo nominai invano.
Onora il padre ed onora la madre, e onora anche il loro bastone:
bacia la mano che ruppe il tuo naso perche' le chiedevi un boccone.
Quando a mio padre si fermo' il cuore, non ho provato dolore,
quando a mio padre si fermo' il cuore, non ho provato dolore.
Ricorda di santificare le feste, facile per noi ladroni,
entrare nei templi che rigurgitan salmi di schiavi e dei loro padroni,
senza finire legati agli altari sgozzati come animali,
senza finire legati agli altari sgozzati come animali.
Il quinto dice "non devi rubare", e forse io l'ho rispettato
vuotando in silenzio le tasche gia' gonfie di quelli che avevan rubato:
ma io senza legge rubai in nome mio, quegli altri nel nome di Dio,
ma io senza legge rubai in nome mio, quegli altri nel nome di Dio.
Non commettere atti che non siano puri, cioe' non disperdere il seme...
Feconda una donna ogni volta che l'ami cosi' sarai uomo di fede.
Poi la voglia svanisce ed il figlio rimane e tanti ne uccide la fame.
Io forse ho confuso il piacere e l'amore ma non ho creato dolore.
Il settimo dice "non ammazzare se del cielo vuoi essere degno",
guardatela oggi questa legge di Dio tre volte inchiodata nel legno.
Guardate la fine di quel Nazzareno, un ladro non muore di meno!
Guardate la fine di quel Nazzareno, un ladro non muore di meno!
Non dire falsa testimonianza ed aiutali ad uccidere un uomo...
Lo sanno a memoria il diritto Divino, ma scordano sempre il perdono.
Ho spergiurato su Dio e sul mio onore e no non ne provo dolore,
ho spergiurato su Dio e sul mio nome e no non ne provo dolore.
Non desiderare la roba degli altri, non desiderarne la sposa...
Ditelo a quelli, chiedetelo ai pochi che hanno una donna e qualcosa...
Nei letti degli altri gia' caldi d'amore non ho provato dolore.
L'invidia di ieri non e' gia' finita, sta' sera v'invidio la vita.
Ma adesso che viene la sera ed il buio, mi toglie il dolore dagli occhi.
E scivola il sole al di la' delle dune a violentare altre notti:
io nel vedere quest'uomo che muore, madre io provo dolore;
nella pieta' che non cede al rancore, madre ho imparato l'amore.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Via del Campo

Via del Campo c’è una graziosa
gli occhi grandi color di foglia
tutta notte sta sulla soglia
vende a tutti la stessa rosa.

Via del Campo c’è una bambina
con le labbra color rugiada
gli occhi grigi come la strada
nascon fiori dove cammina.

Via del Campo c’è una puttana
gli occhi grandi color di foglia
se di amarla ti vien la voglia
basta prenderla per la mano
e ti sembra di andar lontano
lei ti guarda con un sorriso
non credevi che il paradiso
fosse solo lì al primo piano.

Via del Campo ci va un illuso
a pregarla di maritare
a vederla salir le scale
fino a quando il balcone è chiuso.
Ama e ridi se amor risponde
pingi forte se non ti sente
dai diamanti non nasce niente
dal letame nascono i fior...
dai diamanti non nasce niente
dal letame nascono i fior...

-----------------------------------------

Since my return to California, I have been getting back to basics...the things that I enjoy most, things that make me happy-without being self-destructive (because as many of you know, if there is anything you can set your watch to-is me engaging in some risky behaviour...cocaine and calabrian men being my biggest vices-followed closely by...well actually that is pretty much it...maybe wine and shoes)

but this summer, I dedicate to music. To rediscovering music I have forgotten,and to discovering new music...

but through all of this downloading...I have been sort of reliving the past. It is trite, but I am totally overwhelmed by emotions and memories when I hear certain songs, certain bands...

The first time I heard "Bocca di Rosa" by Fabrizio de Andre, I was in Naples with a guy I met in Barcelona. My mother had come to visit me in Italy and we went to Naples so I could see Naples ( a difficult city for a tourist) with real neapolitans. I sent mom to bed, and went out for a night of wine and pizza with the Napulitan'. We met up with his friends, and the took me up to a spot overlooking the city, and sang along to De Andre-but also, traditional Neapolitan music. The stars, the bay of naples, the guys...what an evening. And for people that think all Neapolitans are rude or barbaric-nobody laid a hand on me-they were very sweet, also to my mom.Gaetano Luciano-where are you?

The Sonic Youth is all Jon Sigmon, acid, Bessie.
The songs Becuz,Little Trouble Girl and Goo remind me of jenni (his girlfriend) at the time)

The first time I ever heard "Via del Campo" I was naked and eating sopressata/cacciacavallo with Giovanni Corigliano. We vwere in my apartment in Borgo dei Greci...and lived by candlelight.

I could go on...

Neutral Milk Hotel...summer of 98. period.

The Cramps...bartending.

Lou Reed, Battisti, Renato Carusone=Enzo.

Pino Daniele reminds me of what good can come out of Naples...Gigi D'Alessio the WORST.

Ma...

yummy. it is raffaella's receipe.

you were my sister and I loved you.

a part of you died and I loved you.

fuck you for making this about me.

I know I am a junkie

how about you?

I am an addict-no shock there.

I am aware of that. That is why I am spending the summer in SF and that is why I set up a "clean living" housing situation in memphis when I get back.

that is why I started managing over bartending-to make less money-so as not to do as much blow.

that is why I eventually quit my job.

so fuck you, for turning the mirror on me.

I have looked in the mirror.

have you?

So I haven't been feeling very good about my fat ass, so I have been taking tons of pics trying to find things I like about me, crafting my own brand of pretty...

daydreams...


Being that my life is more disasterous than usual, I have been trying to nail down what my ideal situation would be...I think I have gotten pretty close to figuring it out.

I would have a job that I was proud of, that made me feel like I was affecting positive change-whether through teaching, social work etc.

My partner would be involved with art or activism in a practical way. They would be a chef, or work for a non profit etc. Or he would have a job that would allow him time for his art, but still get out of bed in the morning.

We would live in California, New York, or in Europe. (Ideally).

There would always be music in the house.

We would have friends and lives outside our relationship that enhanced, not threatened our bond.

We would have happy children that grew up feeling loved by us, and protected by the love they saw that we shared.

I would finally calm down. I would stop being angry or sad for decisions I had made. I would finally see that all of the negativity I had felt or inflicted lead to something, through the process of living and learning.

Now if I can just put my head together right-it may happen someday

daydreams...


Being that my life is more disasterous than usual, I have been trying to nail down what my ideal situation would be...I think I have gotten pretty close to figuring it out.

I would have a job that I was proud of, that made me feel like I was affecting positive change-whether through teaching, social work etc.

My partner would be involved with art or activism in a practical way. They would be a chef, or work for a non profit etc. Or he would have a job that would allow him time for his art, but still get out of bed in the morning.

We would live in California, New York, or in Europe. (Ideally).

There would always be music in the house.

We would have friends and lives outside our relationship that enhanced, not threatened our bond.

We would have happy children that grew up feeling loved by us, and protected by the love they saw that we shared.

I would finally calm down. I would stop being angry or sad for decisions I had made. I would finally see that all of the negativity I had felt or inflicted lead to something, through the process of living and learning.

Now if I can just put my head together right-it may happen someday

So I recently got hired at a 24hr diner in a hip neighbourhood. My shift starts at 10pm and runs until 6 or 7 am. I thought this would be positive and keep me out of trouble. Let's just say the change of hours has left me jetlagged and I am going to decline the job.

The first night there was a cute little gay boy training me.Or so I thought.When I asked him why he was quitting he said "to have my hysterectemoy".

run that over your noggin'

plus the rest of the freaks...and a guy who wanted to pop out his glass eye for a discount to up his punk rock cred.

I am not in San Francisco for long enough to not to enjoy it. Anzi, I am not on the planet long enough not to see the sun for days on end.It is unhealthy.

I need to go to Memphis to work out my school schedule.

Mr. Gita wants me to come back as well. At first I thought about dating him,having my own place-but I am seeing signs that nothing has changed. I will not go back to him even on a partime basis-if things are how they were.

ugggghhhh

If you like music...especially hard to find or experimental stuff go here

www.screwmusicforever.com

and


http://www.myspace.com/mondcanvas



Piano music just breaks my heart everytime...

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fuzzy pic from a fuzzy night of whiskey and rock and roll in Oaktown

I was online searching for music, when a band popped up that I hadn't thought about in years-
"The Chromosomes". I was living in Italy a few years ago and made friends with a man who should be sainted, Fabrizio Berti. He worked for a radio station,toured with a blues band, and went to war torn former communist countries to bring music and teach music to kids who have witnessed the horror of war-as a way for them to express and heal.

anyways I sat in on some of his shows for "controradio" and would go see his band play. Now I'm not sure if he was trying to play matchmaker or what, but there was this guy who was in the studio one day, and who promoted punk shows in Toscana. Fabri sent me off with this guy, and because he was a friend of Fabrizios, I trusted him.

Well, I am working this punk show, and I start getting an odd vibe from the promoter. So I do as I always do when I feel like I am about to have to fight for my vagina-I start stealing all their whiskey and fanta.

we pack up and leave the show. and mr.punk promo takes me to a secluded parking lot between 4 buildings. which was bad-but then 4 of this guys friends come out of the shadows to meet the car. I am running every escape plan possible in my mind, and thinking of the whiskey bottle and cans of fanta.There is a sean penn movie from the 80s, where he puts cans in pillow case and fights his way around a prison.

the guys come to the car and start talking to me directly and I pretend I don't speak Italian. which was smart, because his idiot friends believed me, and before dumb promo guy could correct them. they asked him about his plan for me, and I believe they used the word "pecora" which is not good in a sexual context.

at this point the guy knows he has been had. I start screaming at him to drive-to get me the FUCK out of Pistoia...at this point I was more angry than scared, and coming unglued. as we make the drive back to Firenze, things were awkaward to say the least. He tries to apologize for his friends, etc. see what this guy didn't count on is the fact I wasn't a fresh faced "straniera", I had been involved with Enzo for over a year, and was frequenting another Italian during that time.

So he starts going into the whole "Ciao Bella" rountine. Which was ridiculous. Then tells me how if we have casual sex, it will be "a cultural experience"...ummmm, NO. I then read him the riot act, saying that I had been with one Italian for love, one for sport-and they were both on their worst day, better than him on his best day.

I mean I had sex with them,right?

Plus, assuming I am a clueless american girl who he can wow-bad move. I told him he was good-looking but he blew it.

Then I went up to my appartment in Borgo dei Greci and drank his whiskey. Then gave Enzo his Fanta.

ahhh, they joys of being a straniera.

Ce n'est pas une femme.

I think I look like I am about to go down on someone here.

I wish.

right now it seems like "scendere" is very "vietato

This is pretty much indicative of my life in general

So Mr. Ik Bent called me and left a message.

for those of you whose of you who know who he is-he was a very close friend, who I loved very much-with who I had a miscommunication prior to his nashville wedding.

I miss him. it was 8 years ago this summer, that we met here in San Francisco. and since I am looking at my life and trying to figure out how I fucked it up-he comes to mind.

Plus I associate him closely with music, which I have been gorging on.

I want to get happy.

I want to go be in Calabria with Raffaella.

So I think I am bitter. (un po' acida dicimm')

I was chatting online with this kid who has a band in Italy. I don't even know the guy and I was getting mad at him.

I have been ogling hot men and trying to motivate myself to feel something...and though smoking pot makes me horny-there aren't those feelings organically.

I left what was my home to couch surf and come up with a plan. and for the first time I have thought about just going back to Mr. Gita because I am tired and I am sick of the fight.

I have got some of the info I need to get a real teaching credential for Italy.

or continue on here in san francisco or memphis or wherever in some aggressive career.

I will be alone.

I can't even set up a vacation fling without making mistakes. because I can't just have a fling. I am too egotistical. I need to feel important, there needs to be more than lust-or I could just practice onanism.

Troppo fumo? si.

Zombie Movie?si.

Un bel lavoro e un futuro?no.

Cosi e la vita.

amarcord....

In 2001-2002 I was smoking tons of hash and having tons of sex with a guy from Rocca di Netto. My favorite memory is a day in winter-where it snowed in Florence. We smoked hash and had sex, watching the snow.Then I met up with Raffaella and we went to some huge shopping center outside of Florence, and I just remember being so high and singing Sonic Youth at the top of my lungs while she drove.

Fuck Me...

well, momma has some serious decisions to make.

what to do,what to do.

so, for the last 5 years I have wrestled with the same two things

1.Committ to an agressive career in America

2.Get my TEFL credential,not certificate, but credential-and live in Italy.

It has been almost 5 years to the day, since I was told that I would not be working with the Union.Since then,I have struggled to become something else. I have made excuses, I have travelled. I have had deviant sex with a guy from Crotone. Now I am 28, scared, and needing answers.

the credential would allow me to teach in america-or abroad. it would allow me the freedom of being in Italy until I felt like returning to america-if I felt like returning. My time in europe would only bolster my Curriculum Vitae.

If I nail down a salting campaign or continue with my studies in criminal justice-I will have the career I want-but will have to give up Italy, or resign it to 2 weeks a year if I am lucky/

The last few years I go back and forth between here and Italy and I look for answers.

I have always been dragged back here by the people. but now the people I missed are gone to me anyway.

I am coming to terms with the fact that I might have had a bit of drug problem up until I came out here. Not to say that D and I didn't get high and watch zombie movies today-but in general-I am living better.

I want to find a child like old soul.

I want my raffaella close.

I want to do something for my country-no matter how small.

I need advice. I need to be organized.

I need sex.

help.

Anyone reading this.stop.go to www.tidylies.blogspot.com.

Smart,Funny, and really quite fuckable all around.

Americans are ignorant,pompous, fools....

Okay...so with this last world cup, america has found a new project-taking a sport that is popular in every other place on the planet-and tailoring it to fit our fat,ignorant,imperialist needs.

We have a war going on, our economy is in ruins,if things don't change course-within my lifetime, we will either become a province of china or a non-exisistant crater when all of our enemies get together to nuke us-

Yet when I turn on the news or open the paper-there are talking heads discussing how soccer needs a little "je ne sais quoi" to be relevant to us. Even though american viewership of the world cup rose 180% in just four years.

And as far as what will make soccer more relevant-there are the quick fixes

1.Cheerleaders-boobs sell.period
2.Helmets-americans like metal incorporated into their sports-look at nascar.
3.Free stuff
4.Hot dogs

But in all honesty-it is simply a matter of time.People love the sports they love because, strategy aside-nostalgia. You say "baseball" and americans automatically have images of sunday afternoons with grandpa and apple pie. But baseball is just a group a guys running in a circle-some hit stuff, others catch the ball-but seriously-not much to it.

Nascar is the fasting growing sport in america right now-and it is cars driving in one direction-really fast. COME ON!!!

Oh, and soccer,because it can end in a tie-or as the New York Times said with what is essentially "a flip of a coin"-is far to cerebral and hardly flashy enough for american tastes.

Sports originated as a reflection of the society or time that bore them-a sort of passion play...life isn't clear cut, it doesn't always end in confetti and cereal boxes.I think that a stalemate can be decided by something as arbitrary as a penalty kick or coin flip-is more real and relevant-than shoulder pads-half times shows-and corporate campaigns.

and passing gas is more relevant than,say,NASCAR.

plus soccer boys glisten.they glisten.

fucking ridiculous hotness...

picture pages,picture pages...

Seymore's cat is sassy. This cat doesn't like me. I mean, I am scared of the furball. I documented all of this, for legal reasons

I was killing time and decided to take dramatic pics with my picture phone...I am trying to emote here.

I love Northern California.

"Your Life isn't Like Other Peoples'"


Spanky has said that too me many a time, and I have rifuted it. I mean we are all individuals and we are all the same. That's humanity. whatever. But right now...my life is a little strange. I am sharing a bed with a guy I am not having sex with-which seems to be a common theme in my life-but in this instance it is different. I am in San Francisco, yet still attracting Calabrians like flies. Today I stopped into a Caffe in the Marina-a decidely un-Italian quarter. Not 30 seconds later, in walks a Calabrian guy and his hot friend, who was poca fidabile. We chatted for awhile and he made fun of my accent.

I guess my point is that things are so up in the air right now. I am just waiting for them to fall into place.

I am focusing on getting my body healthy. I am looking to put my finances in order so I can go to Italy for the Holidays.

I miss Raffaella. I feel better when she is close.

And the biggest Tragedy of all time is my relationship with Enzo. Here is this good-hearted, smart, funny guy-and we love each other to death-but can't be together. I have never laughed with anyone like I laugh with him. unfortunately the flip side of that is we fought just as hard.We talk all the time, but it just will never be.

I am destined to either never marry or marry an Italian.

I can't win.

he is so fucking hot. I want to do dirty dirty filthy things to him.

so I received this email from a calabrian musician I met online of all things...he emailed me to add his band-and I saw where they were from and having been there we struck up an odd communication-then he writes.

"I was thinking about you tonight.
something is sad in something you say. Or, you say something sad even when you're not. your eyes talk to me from the little picture here and everything is filtered by your look. Everything I read. Tutto diventa di un colore simile alla porcellana.
Was thinking about the poem you sent me last night. It had the power to thrill me. mi hai fatto quasi rabbrividire, ed eccitato al momento stesso.

penso a qualcosa di simile ad un erotismo cosmico.

i'm COMPLETELY drunk."


hmmm-I don't know what I think.

So my friends and I put on a little birthday party for a mutual friend. As much as I love her, I have been avoiding her, because I can't be around cocaine and she bathes in it. the party was moved to where I was staying as a way to thwart my avoidance of her.

She shows up, out of her skin.

Nobody ate.

I was willing to overdraw my account for the birthday of my friend.

My friend is deeply buried in the person who came to the party.

and I ended up doing just as I thought, because I am not strong willed enough to say no. that's why I avoid situations where I can say yes.

I am afraid she will die. yet, I don't think I can help her.

I want to lock her up away from all of her "friends". Get her intense therepy.

I am not ready to say goodbye.

Hey Killer,

I wish you could be here...This city never fails to take my breath away, and I have been to a fair amount of cities in my day...I took a long walk , and I was so amazed by the transitions between neighborhoods...Hip night spots fell away and I was in the ghetto, and the ghetto melts into Japan town, which ends and becomes Pacific Heights-one of the more wealthy areas in a city full of wealthy areas.At liquor stores in Japan town you can find sake and asian savouries alongside pink champagne and moon pies.

This city makes me excited to be young. it is mystical with oceans and fog. It reminds me of who I was at 18 and excited for who I will be at 80.I want to be in love with another person like I am with this city. After 2 weeks of crying and sadness-I wake up each day and hit the streets, moving through neighborhoods, watching people in everyday motion...feeling so happy just to be.

I know every word I write is a cliche...but I say that is a good thing. I will only be who I am now, once, and I would rather fill this time with childlike wonder than old soul sensibility.

As far as getting out of the industry and all that. Had I not bartended, had you not sat at my bar, I would have missed out on you-the best of you I have yet to see-hell, I'm not sure you have seen the best of you yet. Everything happens for a reason-call it immaculate design...I can't wait to run into you again. But next time, you are buying.

Love, Lust, and Youthful Exuberance-me