Special people Create Special posters!!!

Special people Create Special Posters!!!

This, of course, is what my 14 year old niece is
learning in student government. Isn’t that special?
And awesomely relevant to day to day life, I’m sure.
I bet that you didn’t know that.

Are you special? Because I am feeling special. That
is, if a murderous rage tempered only by a vague sort
of ennui can be truly considered special. My job is
driving me crazy! And this truly is an accomplishment
as I never even seem to work. My dad, he knows so
much about job insanity, he told me that all jobs are
like this. If this is so, I am ready for retirement.
Call me crazy, but I still believe that your job
should not suck the very life out of you and leave you
an empty, trembling husk of flaky skin and halitosis.

Somebody, find me a job!

According to and oh so effectively made poster that my
niece owns about, what else, effective poster making
for special people and posters or some such silliness:
And based on the fact that we have all already decided
that I more than likely fill the basic requirements
for specialness I think that we should explore the
other tenets of the special poster people making
bible. Whew! That was a mouthful.

Here goes:

Tenet number one: Attract attention.

I can do that. I have BIG BOOBS! They attract
attention. My niece is equal parts horrified and
mesmerized by them. They frighten her.

MOVING ON

Tenet number two: Hold a Viewers interest

This, too I think that the boobs cover. Okay, maybe
not. But I do tend to say insane things to strangers.
And often, they are horrified and oddly mesmerized
waiting to see what sort of debauched blasphemy will
pore out next. And, this, my friends, holds a persons
interest. I am sure of it.

Tenet number three: Create a memory

Hm. I do tend to go to wild parties in foreign
countries and take lots of crazy pictures of my
girlfriends. Aren’t pictures of nights that were
probably better forgotten really just memories for all
the world to see? And besides, if I didn’t put of
those pictures of my friends and I then I would never
have experienced the joys of a conversation with my
dad the highlights of which were his asking me if I
might be gay. Trust me, you haven’t truly bonded with
your daddy until you have sat at a bowling alley diner
and been asked if you are gay.
(the answer is, unfortunately, no in case you too are
wondering)

See! Right now, you and I dear reader, we are creating
a memory.

Memories! CHECK!

Tenet number four: Urge Action of a Viewer

Okay, viewer, I URGE you to FIND ME A NEW JOB. One
that doesn’t regularly leave me curled up in a ball in
a dirty corner eating my own hair and murmuring
unintelligible obscenities at colorful bits of free
form pocket lint.

Okay. I think that I have met all the required tenets
of special poster making people specialness. And I
want you to know, that I don’t’ feel any better. All
of this work none of the glory.

In conclusion, I think that we have proved
conclusively one: that work sucks. Two: posters suck.
And three: I am NOT GAY.

Peace out homies!

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Black Eye Collage - Just because I can! 

Artistic Shiner Shot 

Shiner - Day 1 

Shiner- Day 2 

Improbable Running Injuries

Okay, I have a serious shiner. My left eye is turning colors I find hard to color coordinate the rest of my outfits around. And it's getting harder and harder to be fashionable these days. Of course, it doesn't help that I can't lift my left arm high enough to change my own shirt without serious pain. Oh and let me tell you about trying to put on a bra. Not so easy one handed, boys. I know that you are all so proud of your ability to take em off that way, but I offer up to you a challenge. Try putting a bra on one handed. Impossible, as far as I can tell.

How, you might ask, do I come to find myself in this sorry state? Well, I know this is hard to believe, but this is a running injury. Yes, running...not cliff diving or mountain climbing. Not sky diving or scuba diving. Running. Who knew physical fitness was so dangerous!

So, Ross and I ran errands today. We hit the grocery store, the laundromat and had lunch. And although my purple eye garnered quite a few stares, I am kind of upset that no one tried to stage an intervention or even ask me about it. You see, I have all kinds of stories to explain it. Like, “My boyfriend hits me. Can you make him stop?” or maybe “ Dude that chick was big and mean but you should see what I did to her face!” But no, no opportunity arose. No one asked. On the bright side, Ross did receive a few nasty glares. But no one offered to beat him up for me.

Maybe next time.

I am, of course, keeping a full day by day pictorial journal of the colors that my left eye is to achieve. I hope you enjoy the pics as much as I do. It's my first black eye!

Ross's response to my injuries, as those who know him might imagine, is to militantly require that I wear a full football helmet on all future runs. He also has decided that it would be best for me to live in a fully Nerf covered dwelling.

But I think that mom said it best when she she said “Erika, honey, you really shouldn't run with your head. It's more an activity that involves feet.”

But if I listened to mom, then how would I be possibly the only person ever to sustain a black eye and knock themselves unconscious as a result of a running injury?

e

I am concussed, I say!

I am concussed, I say!

Yes, it is true. Many are the perils of physical fitness! Especially when you are me or have the grace of me. Which is to say, none. I admit it. I am totally graceless. If I were a super hero I would be 'Destructo the benign!' Benign because I only seem to injure myself in my many adventures and so pose no dangers to the world around me.

For example: Today, while jogging 'Destructo the Benign' managed to remove 2 minutes from her jogging time! She was quick! Not unlike painfully slow moving lightning. But then, with the end in sight Boom! Crash! Slide! Down, Destructo goes. Hard! Like an elephant suddenly and inexplicably without legs. She gallantly lifts herself up and limps on home to the 'Destructo Lair' to nurse her wounds only to realize that she can't exactly see straight and that she has a lump on her left eye brow bone the size of a turtle. And her head, it hurts like hell! She sighs as she puts a bag of magic frozen cranberries on her head and calls her daddy for moral support.

Once again 'Destructo the Benign' has wreaked her own special brand of specialness on the world. She's destroying herself one running injury at a time to teach the world about the perils of physical fitness. She hurts, so you don't have to! Yes, gentle inhabitants of the natural world, it is all for you. And it's all just another day's work for 'Destructo the Benign.'

e

Dear readers, the author is not responsible for any words in this blog entry as she is concussed and has a very bad headache and is not allowed to sleep. And she has a big bump over her left eye and looks pretty damn stupid. Really isn't fair you know...
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Our Love Fern Is Dying

Our Love Fern is Dying

Our love fern is dying! You know, that first house plant that a couple buys together. It really doesn't have to be a fern. In fact, I have no idea what the hell kind of plant our love fern actually is. But I do know that it's supposed to be indestructible. Kind of like Jesus or Twinkies, maybe.

You have one too, don't you? You know, for years you don't even notice that it's there and you have no idea how it survives as neither of you ever admit to watering the fool thing. But after nearly half a decade of taking it totally for granted you wake up one day and realize that you kind of find its presence nice, comforting even, like oatmeal or lawn mower magazines. I mean, if you think about it, it's been with you both from almost the beginning. Longer than your favorite t shirt or episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer even. (In case you were wondering, mine is that god awful musical episode from season six. What can I say, I'm a sucker for a bad musical.) And one day you wake up and finally realize it for what it is; a marker of something vital and lovely in your life history. It's a visual reminder of a wonderful place in your relationship when it was new and squeaky clean. You remember, you used to actually get taken on dates then. And sometimes he even helped with the dishes. And right then you vow to take better care of it. Or at least to try and remember to water it once and a while.

And that, my friends, is exactly the moment that the damn thing starts to droop. And then it starts to turn yellow. And then, when most of it's leaves have finally finished turning that sickly, mushy looking shade of yellow, you know, the one that really doesn't look good with anyone's complexion, and most certainly doesn't go with your kitchen décor, that's when it's leaves start to turn brown and get all crusty. Now, admittedly, the brown crusty is an improvement in color and texture but you do realize that it doesn't really bode well for the health of your love fern. And somewhere in the midst of all this icky transformation you started to notice a weird whitish colored film spreading across the top of its soil.

And the more you try to care for it the worse it gets. And then you get pissed. And then you throw the damn thing away and replace it with a look alike all the while hoping Ross won't realize it but somehow hoping that he does. I mean, really, it is your love fern and all. You want him to bestow on it the same affection and care that you do, or did. But let's be real. Mostly you'd rather just get way with the switch. But just when you think that you've succeeded you look over at Ross only to see him eying the 'impostor' closely. And then he looks over at you and says, “That's not our love fern. What happened to our love fern? Did it die?” And your only response is “Aliens. It must have been aliens.”

Disclaimer:

All love ferns, disposal of love ferns, and Ross's appearing within these words are works of fiction and products of the author's imagination. They are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, persons or ferns, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Sincerely,

The Management

Long Live Love!

Sample Conversations

You all remember Ross, right? Boyfriend
extraordinaire, rescuer of imprisoned dogs, runner of
mountains etc. he has all kinds of lovely qualities.
But you're not really interested in those, are you?
Me neither.

To be plain, I like odd men. And Ross is nothing if
not odd. Please enjoy this reinactment of a
conversation we had this afternoon:

Ross: Get Up!
Me: No! I'm sick.
R: Well at least get off me!
M: No! I'm sick.
R: Do something, already!
M: I just did, see? I rolled over.
R: Yeah, cause you're getting bed sores!
M: Nuh, uh. I'm hungry.
R: Okay, how about you play piano while I put
everything in the living room in a box. Then you can
go through it.
E: Um...??

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How To Cook A Squirrel

For a New Yorker vegetarian (more or less) I must
admit that I have a truly weird and wonderful fixation
with squirrel recipes. It's inexplicable, really.
If you, too are plagued with inexplicable weirdness
visit http://www.scarysquirrel.org/recipes/

Bon Apetit!
e

Squirrel Puree - anonymous

(great for ol' timers with no teeth)
Take a blender and a squirrel
Put squirrel in blend
Switch blender on
Blend until smoth
Serve and enjoy

Come to Jesus Organic Squirrel - anonymous

Shoot the squirrel that's been climbing on your bird
feeder. Feel slightly bad. Skin and remove innards.
Snap off squirrel hands-n-feet and keep them for key
chains, good luck charms, or run them down the
disposal. Keep disposal running... eventually they go
down. Clean, and soak squirrel in 6 dollar a gallon
organic milk overnight. Rinse, quarter, flash fry with
shallots and garlic. Season with rosemary and salt
place in oven at 350 for 35 minutes. Eat. Feel
connected to the cycle of life.

"Eat more squirrel." TS Elliot

Skwerl Avec Toothpaste - anonymous

1 skwerl (live if possible)
1 bottle orange soda
3 tablespoons peanut butter
1 coconut (whole)
1lb noodles (any)(uncooked)
toothpaste as garnish
TT cinnamon, lifesavers, pepperoni, and anchovies

add all ingredients together in stock pot, bring to
boil and keep boiling... serve in cardboard boxes and
eat on the bathroom floor along with the people who
live in your neighbors basement. enjoy!!

Slow Baked Mastadon Skwerl - Mr. Hammeroni

For this one, you will need a VERY large skwerl. At
least two or three hundred pounds or so.

Get in your time machine. Set the little digital
thingy for six million years BC. Trap one bushy-tail
sabertooth- muscle bound mastadon skwerl. Avoid
getting eaten by the skwerl.

Bring the skwerl back to the good old twenty-first
century, or maybe it will bring you.. Dig a
fifteen-foot hole. Add in order:

- Two cords of wood
- Five gallons of kerosene.
- Light the wood.
- Partially cover the fire with ten or twenty large
rocks, to absorb the heat and slowly cook the monster.
- Soak the beast in five gallons of barbecue sauce,
one cup of cayenne pepper, and a half a pound of salt.
Salt is optional. Wrap in ten layers of banana leaves.
- Place prepared skwerl on the now hot rocks, and
cover the hole with as many other large rocks as you
can find.
- Dig it up in about a week, it should be nice and
tender..

World Salvation Skwerl - anonymous

Catch as many squirrels as possible... how you do
this. peanut butter in a microwave. wen they enter the
microwave start to microwave the squirrel. put it on
for at least 7 minutes 30 seconds. by this time the
squirrle should have no fur and his skin should be
bubbling. this is only the warning. if you put it on
for another minute or so you can blow it up and you
got instant chinese food as well as saveing the world.

__________________________________________________________________________________________
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Istanbul not constantinople

Okay; why is it that I can not stay awake in Istanbul?
I really just don't get it. I am positively itching to get a chance to explore that amazing city, but invariably I am suddenly comatose as soon as I get to the hotel. I am truly ashamed. I am currently stuck in a different little Turkish town and I am wide awake. But as it is a cess pool I will stay inside.

I am mourning a wasted opportunity.

And now; I leave you with a song...

e

Istanbul was Constantinople
Now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Now it's Turkish delight on a moonlit night

Every gal in Constantinople
Lives in Istanbul, not Constantinople
So if you've a date in Constantinople
She'll be waiting in Istanbul

Even old New York was once New Amsterdam
Why they changed it I can't say
People just liked it better that way

So take me back to Constantinople
No, you can't go back to Constantinople
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Why did Constantinople get the works
That's nobody's business but the Turks

Howl....O - Ween

There are few places as frightening as the library on
Halloween. Lot's of little lion kings and princesses,
plastic clowns and home made cookie monsters. All
hopped up on candy and good times all under the age of
5 and brimming with cuteness.

So far little Cinderella approached me at the computer
finger stuck up her little nose to the knuckle to
inquire, rather loftily I might add as would befit a
princess, as to what I am doing and if she could be of
service. And little Harry potter keeps peering over at
me and bursting into tears before running away only to
begin the entire process again. Oh, and tiny Pat
Metheny, yes, Ross, I think the child was attempting
to be Pat Metheny or possibly the Hamburglar (it's
truly hard to tell the difference, honestly, you try
it!) almost tripped me on the stone steps. To be fair
that was when I really knew, in my heart of hearts,
that this whole library Halloween excursion was just a
plain old bad idea. But hind sight, as they say,
really is 20 20. So in I went. And here I am.

SURROUNDED.

SAVE ME.

e

In the words of Zoolander's great Mugatu "I think I'm
taking crazy pills!"

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Zim's Crack Creme 

I love seattle 

Lovely Leipzig Mural 

Flight Attendants just do it better...

Flight Attendants just do it better than marines. We are, of course, talking about handling our liquor on airplanes, that is. Now, don't get me wrong, I love my marines! I LOVE bringing them home. But when certain East German layover city airports decide that they should open their arms and their airport bars to our boys, maybe they should consider not serve them Absinthe! Yes, my lovely marines, who have not seen a drop of alcohol in 6 months toasted beyond all belief on ABSINTHE on an airplane for many many hours. Imagine, if you will, an airplane filled with 350 or so marines that have seen neither a drop of alcohol or a civilian american woman in 6 months. Suddenly there are both. You can imagine. Let's just say, not pretty.

How will I ever get that smell of of my shoes?

e

From the mouths of babes...

From the Mouths of Babes...You all know Ross.

"If he's a young jew, then I'm a Martian!"
-Recounting his meeting with a fellow Doctoral student after finding his difficulty spelled Korean name was phonetically pronounced "Young Jew"

I have been off work for so long now, work just seems like a distant memory or a bad dream. I am off till at least the middle of October. I have created so many weird things to fill my time. My favorite is a new game that I like to call "Will Ross Eat It. " This game involves putting all kinds of random things in a pie crust, baking it and calling it quiche. And, of course, seeing if Ross will eat it. So far, I have found nothing that Ross will not eat if it is called a quiche. I reccomend playing this game with your friends and roomates. It's great fun.

This weekend Ross and I are going to play a new game. It's called "What can we stuff in one tent." As we are novices at this game we are starting easy. We are attempting to stuff Me, Ross, Princess and Fluffy all in the one tent somewhere on coastal Rhode Island. Some call it camping!

Lots of pictures next week!
e

United States Redneck Special Forces (USRSF)

I'M JOINING.......

Our Government has finally seen the light!

United States Redneck Special Forces (USRSF)

Battle Cry - GET'R DONE!

Press Release:

The Pentagon announced TODAY the formation
of a new 500-man elite fighting unit called the
United States Redneck Special Forces (USRSF) Arkansas,
Arizona, Georgia,Kentucky,Michigan, Mississippi,
Missouri,Oklahoma, Tennessee,Texas and West Virginia
boys will be dropped off into Iraq given only the
following facts about terrorists :

1. The season opened today.
2. There is no limit.
3. They taste just like chicken.
4. They don 't like beer, pickups, country music or
Jesus.
5. They are directly responsible for the death of Dale
Earnhardt.

The Pentagon expects the problem in Iraq to be over by Friday.

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Enjoy these images from the NY State Fair. For instance, I think that used to be a hot dog. But now it's just fair puke. How I love the fair. 

scary fair ride 

weird 

creepy butter sculpture 

Rapunzel (Jordan) and my midget slave (my niece destiny) 

Mike and Evil Spawn (my nephew shane) 

My last name all over there boobies! 

Poor little dirty duck in the road 

Deep Fried Twinkies 

Fresh Squeezed Lemonade 

Mike gets molested 

Ferris Wheel 

NY State Fair Midway at night 

Rapunzel on a ferris wheel. Let her Down! 

Hooters Smart Car in Landstuhl Germany. I kiss it! 

Irony

For those of you confused about the definition of irony:

Irony: The theme from Schindler's List playing loudly in the lobby of a five star hotel in Kuwait City.

Welcome to my world.

Any questions?

e

Yet Another Reason I Love Ross

Okay kids, welcome to my world. And in my world it is yet another reason I love Ross time!

I love Ross BECAUSE...

He knows what speed the car must be going for optimum viewing of doggy head out of the window ear flapping.

He has, in fact, just informed me that the proper speed is 15-20 miles per hour.

Enjoy your day!

e

potato soup berry flavored tea

Red Berry Potato soup zinger tea. Mmmmm... NOT. I am
in Kuwait. I forgot I made instant potato soup in my
tea cuplast night. A perfectly poignant moment
spoiled by a potato. Ah well.

I hope your perfectly poignant moment lives on
uninterrupted by any man or vegetable.

be well.

e

My So Called Life

This, my friends, is a disturbingly accurate picture
of my life delivered right to my email. So I give it
to you...

You know you are a flight attendant if:

1. You can eat a four course meal standing at the
kitchen counter
2. You search for a button to flush the toilet
3. You look for the "crew line" at the grocery store
4. You can pack for a two week trip to Europe in one
roll-aboard
5. All your pens have different hotel names on them
6. You NEVER unpack
7. You can recognize pilots by the backs of their
heads-but not by
their faces
8. You can tell from 70 yards away if a piece of
luggage will fit in
the
overhead bin
9. You care about the local news in a city three
states away
10. You can tie a neck scarf 36 ways
11. You know at least 25 uses for air sickness
bags-none of which
pertain to vomit
12. You understand and actually use the 24-hour clock
13. You own 2 sets of uniforms: fat and thin
14. You don't think in "months" - you think in "bid
packs"
15. You always point with two fingers
16. You get a little too excited by certain types of
ice
17. You stand at the front door and politely say,
"Buh-bye, thanks,
have a nice day" when someone leaves your home
18. You can make a sentence using all of the following
phrases:
"At this time," "For your safety," "Feel free," and
"As a reminder"
19. You know what's on the cover of the current issues
of In Touch,
Star, and People magazines
20. You stop and inspect every fire extinguisher you
pass, just to make
sure the "gauge is in the green"
21. Your thighs are covered in bruises from armrests
and elbows
22. You wake up and have to look at the hotel
stationery to figure out
where you are.
23. You refer to cities by their airport codes
24. Every time the doorbell rings you look at the
ceiling
25. You actually understand every item on this list

I think Grandma Heaved all over my hotel room

I think Grandma Heaved all over my hotel room. Not
literally, kids, figuratively. Cause that would be
gross.

I am in this weird little hotel somewhere in the
English countryside. It's called the Smoke House.
That really doesn't sound a particularly pleasing name
for a hotel. Who likes smoke?

My room looks like somebodys grandma through up
flowers and doilies all over it! Not my grandma, of
course. She has much better taste! But someones! My
room is covered covered in flowers and the walls are
pee yellow. Mmmmm. NOthing says loving like urine
covered walls.

Now I am off to Leipzig where my hotel resembles a
Soviet Insane assylum off in a creepy field with
nothing around.

Gee my life is fabulous sometimes!

Peace out, yo!

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My new Favorite Reader

This is a love post to my new favorite blog reader:

You know who you are. You found me by search engine. Of all the sites on all the web you chose mine. And how did you find me?

Your search words were: SEA LION PORN

What in the name of all that is holy were you looking to find? Is there some weird niche that I am not even aware that I tapped into? Are people out there desperately looking for a virtual place they can get together and share their loves of sea lion porn? If so, I am honored to be that place.

Come back, dear reader! Come visit often. I await your return!

erika
p.s. Hey there. I have some movies you might like. You know, sea lion porn movies...For a pirce that is. I do love you wildly, but a girl has to make a living, now doesn't she?

Why don't you just pee in the bidet?

What's up with bidets? Italians just love em! I just don't get it. First you pee in the toilet. I get that. But then you move over to the bidet and are forced to squat quite low to hose down your bits and piecesf. Why can't you just pee in the damn bidet? Or better yet, screw the bidet! WHo needs it. The Japanese really got it right. They have the most amazing toilets. Each one has a myriad of buttons with insane pictures on them. One heats the seat for you. Another activates a tiny sprayer that extends out and hoses your dirty bits for you. You can even choose a warm water wash or a cold. But who would ever want the cold water option. I guess it would really wake you up inthe morning, if that's what you're into. Some Japanese toilets even have a vibrate feature! Although I can not forsee a need to vibrate whilst pooing, someone must have, or it probably wouldn't exist, right?

Anyways, I'd love to blather on but I've begun to bore myself. I am back in the states for now!

e

Fluffy goes to prison

Yesterday Fluffy went to prison. This is Fluffy for those who haven't met the newest addition to Ross's and my freaky furry family. And yesterday she went to prison. She spent the night in the clink. And, according to Ross at least, she is horribly traumatized and it is all my fault. I let her out. She ran away while I was peeing. She ran all the way to our next door neighbors yard. We are talking 100 or so feet. The horrible neighbor neighbor lady saw her and immediately called the cops who then called the pound to come get her. And off FLuffy went to prison.

Imagine this, is you will. Fluffy in your yard. She is wearing a huge fan style collar to keep her from scratching herself. She looks ridiculous but oddly enough she's still kind of cute. You see her. DO you a: cart your cookies next door and ask if she is missing or B: SEND POOR FLUFFY TO DOGGY PRISON!!!! Neighbor lady sucks! Her cat is always in our yard. Next time I see him maybe I will call the pound to come get him. Because obviously that is the nonsensical thing to do, so why not!

Free Fluffy!

On another note: My cab driver is not wearing shoes. And he's singing. God hates me and wants me to be miserable. THis is obviously the only explanation.

Mental Drippings

I have nothing but Mad Love for Tino here. But please check out Mental Drippings for the 10 worst album covers of all times. I giggled so hard I might have peed myself a little bit. And I was at the library!

e

Refugee

Recently I flew refugees of Lebanon. I helped old women to the bathroon and kept a steady stream of tissues to a quietly sobbing young mother. I learned what it is to be a refugee. I learned this from children. Rayane is 10 and Leah is 9. Melanie is three and she has the eyes of a beaten puppy. She rests on my hip as we walk down the aisles singing softly. She speaks only French so we sing Frere Jacque because it is the only french I know. Rayane tells me what it is like to sleep on the ground with strangers at a fair ground for days. And Lea describes the process by which she chooses which few of her belongings might fit inside of her knapsack. Elise is 8. She clings to my waist and tells me over and over that she loves me. And old women kisses my hand as she boards the plane.

Many of these people have no idea where they are going. They arrived very late at night into Atlanta without any idea of what comes next. Some have family and friends to stay with. But many more ask me where california is. They ask me what I know of Boston or New York. When they talmk to me of Minnesota I try and stear them back to the warmth. They are a warm blooded people. The children ask me about snow.

I give them what I can. I give them countless glasses of water and juice and all of the food and chocolate I can find. I listen quietly to those who need to talk. I hold babies and sing. I softly stroke the hair of the scared little girl and I hold the arm of the old women as she stumbles slowly and painfully to the dirty bathroom. But then I go back to my nice clean hotel room and have a glass of wine. And I wonder if there was anything more that I could have done and I wish that there were.

Ross is avoiding me

Ross is avoiding me. Yes he is. He knows I want him to take me out tonight so he refuses to come home. But come home he must. After seven lovely years doesn't he yet know that I am much more evil the longer I am avoided? I go from plain old bitch to fire breathing satan bitch like that.

Wish him well kindly readers.

I am going to eat him alive.

When he shows up, that is.

We'll put some skittles in the bunny and wack it with sticks!

From the proud participants of the disco nap I am
pleased to bring you...

Taxidermy Pinata making: Two great crafts combined
for oh so tasty results!

I am in Leipzig. It is obscenely lovely here. I am
so tired I think that my eyeballs are bleeding. But
sometimes it is a damn shame to sleep away a day. yet
Sometimes you must. I flew all night.

I visited the church where Johann Sebastian Bach was
the organist. He is also interred there. I felt
close to god. And that is saying something as I am
quite the little agnostic. Bach can do that. There
is music everywhere here. It ricochets off the
cobbles and red tile roofs. Everywhere there is a
young jeans clad string trio playing on a pedestrian
street or two old men standing on a street corner
playing duets on an accordion. I could live here.

Home soon.

SLEEP...

hula in hawaii

bach's tomb