The funny thing about making your own soup is that it's really hard to tell when it's done. Do you know what I mean? I haven't called my mom in awhile. I'm sifting through this Joni Mitchell discography, determined to give every song a fair listen before I delete the ones I don't like. It's hard because they all essentially sound the same and are all very relaxing, but a few will boil over and really wow me. I've been thinking a lot lately about punk lesbians I looked up to as a teenager. Two in particular. They took the funniest cultural things and made them so essentially theirs, shit you would usually think of as super dudesy. Charles Manson, Pink Floyd, shit like that. They were so cool, so messianic for a second in my life. I wonder what everyone I've ever met in my life is doing right now? Mr. David always asks me, "Do you like your party?" I love it, duh, no question. I wanna start asking myself though, "Do you like your life?" Because essentially they are the same. It's just in life you can forget why you're there, but at the party I know exactly why I'm there and what I'm supposed to be doing. I know that in life too I just forget. Does this make sense? No I'm not high but I am kind of sick and I AM listening to Joni Mitchell, cut me a break. Fuck you. This is the new, gay Dr. Phil. How's that workin' for ya?
Phatima. The best look.
That last one might be the best picture. I always forget how rad the disco balls at the Stud are. I love an arrangment of similar things in different sizes. I wish I had a little twin and a big twin and a huge twin to walk around with me all the time. Omg wouldn't that look cool?!