oh you dear readers (are there any of you? blogging is beginning to feel like a lonely endeavor), i promise that this blog will begin to not suck as soon as i can make it remotely possible.

love,

ess

Heat, like a dead weight
Still coverin' the street outside
So heavy that the dogs can't hide
In the hot, hot rays

people need to shut the fuck up. don't whine about something you can't change.

THE BLACK KEYS ++++++ THEE MAKEOUT PARTY AT THE OAKLAND FOX THEATRE

there was once a kid i knew, whose aim icon was flashing lights spelling out

"this is not emo."

he wore white reebok shoes, and had a nose not unlike a squash.

things like that you can't make up.

i'm liking sort of ragged, grungy... well, not that, just sort of loose, not-so-crisp looks. the opposite of the word "crisp" would naturally be "limp," but these clothes are anything but limp. no sharp lines, though, and lots of layers.

my wardrobe has been completely utilitarian lately. this, i hope, will change.

junya tashiro

fur fur

alison mosshart (singer for the kills)

i need a pseudonym. HELP

le dix avril

there is nothing to write about.
il n'y a rien a ecrire.
in precisely one hour, thirty-six minutes and forty seconds, i will be released into the dense wilderness of spring break, off to frolic in the grey, rainy weather. i expect i will be sitting inside with a mug of chai tea, most of the time. working sometimes.
everyone in the city is almost done with their break, so when i need something to do, they'll be back at carved desks in dingy rooms.
it's good friday. what exactly does that entail?

oh the things you get away with

walked from 42nd to 21st, what fun

then bused it

the rave started at 8:30

and at some point we ended up in a laundromat

and met new friends!

who we got donuts with

for all you san francisco people: We Party In Parks organizes it, you go to it, it's good. they even give you glowsticks.

of course, i had a headache this morning, so i stayed in bed till eleven, at which time i rode my bike to larkspur and bought a custard bomboloni. lazy saturday, it could be much worse.

hmm.

it's so cold. you wake up and see sun and put on some shorts, but five minutes later you're back inside, looking for a parka. this is the worst weather, the kind that plays tricks. tonight will be frigid, if i go out, yet as i write this i become increasingly doubtful that i will. there are restrictions that i have to snake around.

i'm craving a bowl of raspberries with whipped cream (handmade, not from a can).