Bored games.

I haven't been sleeping well,

but I've been dreaming well.

In a week I'm doing something

pretty idiosyncratic

by my standards.

I'm anxious,

in a good way

and nervous,

in a good way,

if there is one.

DKMS

Yesterday

I got the phone call

that I've been waiting several

months to get.

It was a six month follow-up

for the patient that received

my bone marrow donation.

The woman said that he is still recovering,

but cancer-free.

It's hard for me to grasp...

Six months ago, this man was in "dire" condition

dying from acute lymphoblastic Leukemia,

Resorting to a list of strangers.

What must that have felt like?

What are the chances one of these strangers would match,

that they would be willing to go through with it?

Your life, everything,

rests in the hands of someone

you never met,

and whether they'll even bother

going through with it.

I can't imagine that.

What are the chances that,

after swabbing my cheek at warped tour,

our lives would become irreversibly intertwined?

This man had cancer.

Now, he doesn't.

This man was dying.

Now, he has a second chance.

How fucking incredible is that?

I hope I match for someone else.

Dreams.

I never thought

eating cake

from a bakery dumpster

would be something

I would ever do,

much less enjoy.

Proved wrong.

All 50 States

Things will be good.

I'm smart and nice and funny.

That's still worth something these days,

right?

Filming a screenplay this winter.

Just read the script.

Stoked.

Ice Weasels.

Steve

is a 63 year old

childless, never married man

who's favorite hobby is

scavenging in alley ways.

He rolls his own cigarettes,

often times they are over 6 inches long.

He doesn't drink,

and I believe him.

He is a fantastic artist.

Able to draw almost any creature

since the Cretaceous,

with astonishing accuracy.

He wears the same jacket

every day.

Nearly every day,

he comes into the coffee shop,

with some things he's found on the street.

Shoes, books, a coffee table.

Pots, pillows, plywood.

Today,

he brought DVD cases, no DVDs.

He said he knows how we like to make collages.

Half the DVDs were porn.

Raunchy porn.

I think he freaks most people out.

But not me.

1,000

In the process of

listening to the

1,000 recordings

to hear

before you die.

I figure,

that's much more feasible

than visiting all the places

to see...

995 to go.

Yeah!

Take it!

My childhood friend

who I used to climb rocks with

and sing Janis Joplin

at the top of our lungs with,

just got engaged

at sunset

in Mexico.

I still think that shit's weird...

I'm pretty(,)sure.

Going through the process

of hope,

and dismay.

Then maybes,

then, no ways!

But, I guess this is natural.

Things are never black and white

or fairy tales.

Europe

I might just

fucking go,

and stop whining

about it.

<

A hundred

"You're funny"s

don't equal even one

"You're beautiful".

I'm the girl you tell

about how pretty that

brunette in your lecture is,

or how you wish you had

the nerve to ask that one

girl for her number.

I'm the girl that tells you

to go for it,

or to be reasonable.

The one who reminds you

that there are more fish in

the sea.

I'm the girl who makes you laugh,

the girl friend,

but never a girlfriend.

But I'll keep cracking jokes, anyway.

Thumbs up.

Today I learned

a beatnik handshake

from someone old enough

to have been a beatnik.

I also got a mix cd from a stranger

and cried a little during track three,

wishing that it actually meant something,

and that it wasn't just a pretty song

to a stranger

from a stranger.

Even though it's disgusting.

It's cute

how much you like

TAB soda.

Fantasy Football

I met a little girl today.

Her name was Giselle

and she was six years old,

turning seven, she told me.

She also told me that

her dad doesn't like listening to

Michael Jackson,

because he didn't sing about Jesus,

and when he died,

he went to hell.

She also taught me

what decapitation was

and pointed to a barbie head

someone had tacked to our bulletin board.

She even made a hand motion,

dragging her finger across her neck.

Veritas?

Today,

an albino girl

who was traveling with some free form jazz musicians,

told me I was "absolutely gorgeous" .

She said that she bets that,

if I get my picture taken at sunset,

with the sun behind me,

that I would look like an angel.

It made me feel, special?

She also told me that-

she is an orphan

she went to Harvard

she goes to Marquette

she has Leukemia

she was engaged (until this morning)

she is pregnant (with his^)

she pays for his tutor

and

she has four jobs.

Either, I got an incredibly nice compliment

from someone with absolutely atrocious life circumstances,

thus, I should be completely honored.

Or,

I'd been had,

and I'm only pretty to a liar.

Shame and babies.

Today,

I kissed a cute little baby,

two weeks old,

and realized-

it was the first time I had kissed a boy

in five years.

Fuck.

CARDINAL SIN

I hate for it to come to this,

it's terrible, pathetic, damn near unforgivable...

...but I have to quote a Smiths song.

Please, please, please,

let me get what I want this time.

Lord knows, it would be the first time.

I had to do it.

It's beyond applicable.

Just once, I'd love for something

to work out.

It would be...the bees knees, truly!