Bah.

Fuck my dream state. Wake up more exhausted and befuddled than before I went to sleep. Last night involved tequila, Ross as the star of the show and me being a fucking anti social retard at Lottas mothers bar.

All I do is sit there and write. Ross told me that I am odd which is pretty fucking fresh coming from him.

Enough about fucking Ross, as you can tell he is pretty much the only person that I hang with and when he is narky it does me no favours let me tell you.

Dreams so vivid. One of those mornings when every time I tried to drift off all the things that haunt me became so real in my minds eye that they literally shook me awake.

Both bogus and stressful.

Another day of not a hell of a lot. Miss Raquel wrote to me. Tales of love and club 77 and I miss her so. Getting emails on the road tends to always be a highlight for me. Keeps my mind off my mind to quote my beloved Mr Rollins. Hell, I will take all the outside stimulus I can get.5th day no sugar; now officially fruitier than a mardi gras float.

Maybe my biggest problem is that nothing seems real to me until hindsight mooches up to me at the bar and buys me a drink.

Ah! This dream. I was shagging the wrong person at the wrong time and all matter of shit befell me. I was living off Cherokee in Hollywood and it was an utter bunfight.

We leave to go play again at 2 in the morning. That is something to look forward to. There was a Hello Kitty wardrobe in my dream as well.
Enough.
Jesus fuckin’ Christ.
I am going out before I throw this laptop followed by myself out the fucking window.

Catch you after “From the ground up” Festival.

SF4L
Michele.