I went to The Horror Show, last night, and I was standing in front of a cage that held two men covered in blood, who were cutting up humans, and eating them. As I was looking at this very morbid scene, one of the men looked up from the arm that he was gnawing on, reached his hand through the opening in the cage, and said, "Hey Mikel!!"

I'm listening to the new Melissa Johanna cd, "Box of Stars," and I am thinking about how I want a garden, but my home doesn't have enough sunshine to support tomatoes, and other vegetables that I could chew on; so I plant flowers, but flowers disappear too fast, and make me sad when they are gone, so, now, I have ferns, and, today, I just bought a dracaena sanderiana, and a unidentified leafy plant. My plants make me happy, like my pets; if only they could bottle the feeling that they give me.

The world owes me nothing because I'm here.(I really have to keep reminding myself of this, over and over. I love to sit on my pity pot. When you laugh, the world laughs with you; when you cry, you are fucking crying alone.)

She took the phone that she had given me, but left the flowers that I had given her. It's all becomes a blur, and soon you don't remember what you were pissed off about, but you realize that the fact that you kept getting pissed off means that she is not the gal for you. I just met a nice lady; she is broke, bi-polar, hears voices, and is a year off of crack.

I often walk about the city attached to dogs in one hand, and a bag of shit in the other.