I don't think I'm ever going to remember how to sleep.
Today I feel like Molly Ringwald. With green hat and red hair flaming, I walked the streets in clownish glee today. And I really liked the rain, even though it was cold and the wet gave me blisters on my feet. Photoshoot today, for a Microsoft ad campaign. It was a call back and maybe they'll call back again. And maybe someone will see my face and decide they want it for themselves, for money that is. And maybe I'll be plastered on the streets, and the signs, and the minds of silly walking people in New York. They'd give me money and I'd laugh and take it gladly.

Thomas Wolfe has my heart. By that I do not mean he contains it, I mean we must share the same one. I have read sentence after sentence and page after page and thought, my God, I've written that before. The man loved alliteration. It's bloody brilliant.

Ahhh. An old love wrote a beautiful song. I listened to it and I wept today. It was perfect, because it was him through and through. The barely off key strong and solid croon of a young man who has the world before him. He was singing of a lady and her whisperings, and her sitting on the porch, and him coming home. And what a lovely home they have. With pretty green walls and a warm hearth. I wept because it was him. I wept because it moved me as a song should. I wept because it was not about me. I'll remember him. I'll remember you love.

Today, I feel like Cal Trask. Hat pulled low and coat pulled high around my ears, with eyes looking down down down to my feet to my toes to the ground. Never up.