oh, neglected blog. you have been forgotten in the wake of papers and finals and the ever growing presence of boy. when i'm happy i don't have much to talk about and the things that have been angering me lately are too immature to give voice or word to.

last sick spits open mic of the year was last night. after a string of terrible poets and singer/songwriters who deserve to have all of their old jewel CDs burned a very large fire, i went onstage and read "music for a porch life", belting out jolie holland's cover of "old fashioned morphine" in between stanzas of the poem. i wore a black nightgown as a dress and thigh high tights and he sat in the back where i couldn't see him through the lights. i felt beautiful, like i had true talent. i've never sung on a stage before and it was such a liberating feeling.

if anyone is wondering, a microphone makes all the difference. i sound like shite in the car but when you're amplified, you don't have to try so hard to sound good. wish i knew why that was so.

finished off the evening playing scrabble on the plush carpet of jessie and audrey's tiny living room, drinking pabst, trying to pass made up words as real. stifled annoyance over petty things in exchange for smiles. sometimes it's easier not to even acknowledge things that bother you. just smile, baby, and everything will be all right.