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< city of angels | posted at 2:21 pm on May 03, 2005 >

god every time i move i crack some sort of joint. including my sternum. can you believe that? it�s a very, very uncomfortable feeling, cracking a sternum. and yesterday i did it three times during the morning, and another couple of times during the day. shudder. i think i�m secretly a 70 year old woman. or i�m a 20 year old woman with 70 year old joints. or something. i don�t think any of that makes sense.

in my dream last night i saw a baby with quote �hans moleman cheeks�. that�s what my mysterious dream companion said in the dream. you know, those saggy cheeks that kind of hang down under the chin just a little?

i also dream that i fart, and i think that i fart in my sleep when i dream that i fart.

a few mornings ago it was hopeless, getting out of bed. i finally left andrew�s place at 9.40am. ridiculous, considering that�s the time i generally get into work (and even that�s ridiculous, considering technically (?) i�m meant to be there at 9), and it takes me 40mins to walk there from andrew�s. gah. anyway so in my haste i had to pay exorbitant amounts (read: nine bucks) for a cab.

now, well, now i�m getting out of my own bed as he left for LA yesterday at 1.30pm. he should have landed about 2.45am our time so i think he is probably sleeping off all the jet lag, as he hasn�t texted me back. but i am scared his phone doesn�t have the tri-band/dual-band/whatever-band you need to be able to properly globally roam, and that i won�t know whether or not he�s alive or dead for ten whole freaking days. but i�m sure he�ll call. but it�s just disconcerting to know that if his phone doesn�t have the special bands or whatever, that i can�t contact him at all. miss him.

and i didn�t say �i love you� goodbye, and if he dies (touch immeasurable amounts of wood) i�ll feel so terrible and it�s plaguing me that i didn�t say it and gahhhhhh. i�m on deadline. this will be my first issue totally and utterly alone as my art director is �sick� (actually, secretly, i�m pretty sure he�s just working on his other magazine, but that�s fine). which is ok because this cover i think will be quite nice. hmm.

sunday night it rained so hard one of my thongs (footwear, dont get the wrong idea kids) got washed away on the river that was andrew's street's footpath. a veritable river my friends! about ten centimetres deep, we had to run through the pouring rain and hail to get to his house, and on the way, my thong got swept down this 'tide'. luckily i'd left shoes there a previous day, but it was definitely amusing at the time. as was me having to get changed out of my drenched clothes into his - it was only the fourth pair of pants that didn't just totally fall off - and drowned in his clothes.

gah. that�s all else i have to say as i have much work to do. god, it�s scary.

those last five
- - June 13, 2008
hidden - August 14, 2006
it's not me, it's you - January 30, 2006
boring. Sorry. not really. - December 22, 2005
twenty-one - December 09, 2005