Vanity cannot coexist with happiness.

i really regret the fact that drawing in MSpaint or something would be a little too conspicuous at work, because i think this diary entry could really use some illustrations. i mean, you really can't appreciate some things without a clearer picture of what they really looked like.

For example, the little old man who looked like Truman Capote, who nearly staggered into my father's car a few days ago as we were stopped at a light. his upper lip was so tucked in his lower lip, it was adorable! and the fact that he was just wandering in the middle of the road, like a dementia patient. i loved him dearly.

the last weeks have actually been fulfilling, which is maybe why I haven't written. I'm actually keeping a book-type journal now, for all my DEEP THAWTZ and creative ideas. i lie awake in bed and chuckle to myself and write in it and am proud of myself for my work. it is a gem of literature and picture-like scribbles. i write down all my insights into synesthesia. i try to induce it in myself by staring at letters really hard. "PLEASE TURN TO COLORS!!!!!!!!" I say to the letters. They refuse to obey.

I can't wait until more stuff at Coney Island opens. We tried to go last weekend, but most rides seemed to be blocked off still. The Himalayan hadn't even turned into a hip-hop party yet! i must admit, i was slightly afraid to go at night, because last time, some crazy homeless man told me that he was gonna kill my mother. and a trollish homeless man who lived under the boardwalk came out and yelled at me for de-sanding my shoes. But how can you not love something so seedy? Coney Island is all dirty and fun. Seaside Heights, NJ, is cleaner (and perhaps bigger?), but it just doesn't have the same aura (people watching is fun there though). I also once went to Biloxi in Mississippi, and that was pretty cool; the prizes they gave away for skeeball and stuff were all still from the 70's.


Last week I went to a Jehovah's Witness memorial for Jesus. This is the only day out of the year when they have Communion. I went with Jen, her sister, and her mother. I think they are trying to convert me, and it is sweet. but impossible. apparently they made the mistake of bringing their father to the memorial last year. here is the thing about J.W.: they believe only 144,000 people are going to Heaven. Period. the rest of us will be left on earth, with a heaven on earth of sorts, but we ain't gettin up there. Only the people within that 144,000 (who somehow KNOW they are going to heaven) can take communion. here is the thing about jen's father: he is a crazy puerto rican man, who is his own religion, who believes that God specifically put him on Earth to convert Jews to believe in Jesus. He has had various jobs in temples and kosher delis, where he attempts to discuss Jesus with various members/clientel until he is fired. So. When the Communion plate of bread came around on that fateful J.W. memorial day, no one takes anything off the plate BUT JEN'S FATHER who not only takes a bite, but STICKS THE REST OF THE PIECE IN HIS SHIRT POCKET AND SAVES IT FOR LATER. i was hoping to see a similar display, but jen's father did not come. :( The JWs are terribly nice, but I still can't help feeling like they're trying to trick me into something. OH GOD, I'M GOING TO HELL.

BE HORRIBLY JEALOUS!!! i am going to see Kids in the Hall LIVE ON STAGE next weekend! maybe they will sign my boobies!