I'm a lazy shit. I haven't sold my flute, I haven't yet purchased a car, and therefore haven't registered any vehicle of any kind (Update: Am buying my car tomorrow, provided everything goes according to plan. '81 Volvo wagon!). I'm not prepared to depart SF on Monday. And I haven't posted here since my favorite Josh White came to stay. I'll pull this move together, I always do, but god I'm such a bum...it feels so good.

Bizarre but true: I have a handle on my life. Although I never know where my funding is going to come from, and I rarely have anything planned more than an hour ahead of time...it works for me. I know it makes Mum and Dad crazy, and they expect me to end up in a box. I know that this can't continue past this summer. For right now, though, it's unfolding just fine.

I took the bus home from work today, for a change. I always think it will be a good idea, some sunlight and periodic views of the Golden Gate. Then I get on the 38 line, and I remember why I take the train: children. Highschoolers everywhere. Goddamn.

I love the girls who simultaneously ride the bus and act as though they've just stepped out of a Chanel ad (I'd like to note that most of these girls are extremely thin). There's nothing wrong with looking fabulous on a bus, but s'il vous plait, don't turn your nose up at me as if you're on a higher plane. We're both standing in a sea of rowdy children wishing we could drop the cash on a cab.

I've been channeling Kirstin's spirit lately: I'm getting emotional. Missing on Ace, and feeling like I'll end up alone at the end of the road. Which wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen- flying solo doesn't intimidate me. But if I did end up with someone to walk beside me, that might not be so bad either.

Morbid waters ahead, mateys. I've been having dreams about dying. They're obscure, and the actual events are irrelevant, but they all involve me....well, trying not to die. I'm notorious for my contemplation of my own mortality; call it an obsession, if you will. It's probably because I don't yet know what I believe in as far as the afterlife is concerned. Some black pit in the bottom of my stomach tells me that this is it, this is all we get. The Kirstin part of me insists that our "souls" go on to...wherever. Sometimes I think our energy is recycled, born anew, or that we're reincarnated. It's not yet clear. Either way, it terrifies me and fascinates me and I think about it ALL THE TIME. Dan calls it morbid. I call it curious and realistic. Death and conception are the two things that every living thing must go through, and death is the only one we're conscious of. We get to debate it and question it, as I'm sure you're all debating and questioning my sanity right now. :) In all seriousness...I like hearing other people's thoughts on the matter. So if you can hack it, tell me: what do you think will happen to you when you die?