I remember that from "Stuart Little". The book, not the movie. God, I haven't read that one since I was in the single digits.

*whimper*

I need to stop that. I... aye yi yi. I suppose I oughtn't write if I don't really ant to speak, I want to bite things.

go read This One. I must admit-- diaryland has the only banner ads i actually click on. Whee.

Johnny's awake. My old friend. He thinks in song lyrics and his life keeps swirling around to fit them. He's telling me now about him and his Ex-Girlfriend the (ex?)Heroin-Addict and his Ex-Boyfriend the Satanist and her current boyfriend the Really-Bad-Poet getting on a bus to look for his best friend Judy. In disguise, with glasses, no less.

=][ <------ my cat says hello. Hmm, maybe I should get her her own diary.

Johnny wants me to come write about him flying some more. I can fly, vicariously, through characters. But at least It's some sort of soaring, when I am so fucking sore. My soul aches, my palms burn, my eyes water, and where is my poet?

Ooh, that was some angsty-angst. Oh jees Rabsi, you can do better than that.

Well, If I /had/ my goddamn Poet...

*sigh*

At least I have Desichado, and my beloved Michael.

<<agé chose>>

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