2004-07-14-8:57 p.m.
Tired. Brain Hurts.

Helped move an old recliner to the street and found a painting of a woman. Sorta looks like a Van Gogh type style. Maybe it would be fun to repaint it as normal or just try different approaches? Right now she is sitting in the corner, with stringy orange hair and dents for eyeballs. Very saggy breasts, like they were made of clay.

I actually explained to someone what I was doing with my writing. I'm surprised because I never really thought too deeply about it, it sorta just came. She replied that it sounded like 'fantasy.' But I hate the word fantasy. Fantasy sounds too happy, too unreal. Unreal like kissing frogs, 7 dwarves, and turning straw to gold. I'm not about ready made happy endings or fairy tales. An idea forms and as the story progresses, it tells itself. The story talks for itself, it makes its own reality.

Sean is doing a movie. Something about burning a month in Orlando. Sean is pale, has a dark voice, and if you gave him a cape he could be the heir to the vampire throne. Tempting, but I think I'm going to camp out here... just in case.

I'm now looking into James Dean

Check out RadioIo.com and go to the Rock tab. Robert Goodman is the best DJ in Jacksonville.

Reading "Party of One: The Loners' Manifesto" By Anneli Rufus. Good NonFiction. Check it out if you hate big crowds, like time by yourself, and are into creating.

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