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i don't know if anybody who reads this regularly 'dines out' in nyc, but this is a really good deal: Misha and I are going to one restaurant friday night, and one saturday night. they are sort of hoighty-toighty, so i don't know how much the meals will actually cost, but FIFTY DOLLARS OFF still sounds pretty impressive. i feel classy and decadent. i just ate a delicious piece of biscotti. It seems like, for any of the hobbies i pick up, i have to buy like, industrial equipment. I want a lathe and a circular saw to build furniture. I want a sewing machine to make FASHIONS. i want book trimmer and binder and an offset printing press to make some art books. (oh yeah, i need a dark room for that, too. fo shizzay.) WHY CAN'T MY HOPES AND DREAMS BE A BIT MORE SIMPLE. give me some pretzels and my hobby can become building abe lincoln cabins, like for president's day in second grade. today, i am remembering kristy-anne (AKA krusty-anne) and her brother, in high school, when they were urging me to smoke cigarettes in the back school parking lot. the cigarettes had toothpaste smeared on the end. they were hard to light. i think it cuts oxygen to the brain, which causes hallucinations, much like jimsen weed (which I will ALWAYS think is funny). anyway, i didn't smoke it. i regret this. maybe it could have caused synesthesia, you know? maybe it tasted like menthols. this reminds me, of a boy on the internet, who once sent me note where he joked about having bad breath. he signed his email something like "yours, with dragonbreath". and that was. like. something you just don't joke about having. bad breath. i was disgusted. i didn't even mind that whole thing with james and his hemerroid, but getting cutesy about bad breath...i dunno. this has been a whole lot of NOTHING. which is what you always do for me. :( signed,
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