Sheep Dicks

Sheep dicks.  I've never seen a sheep dick and I doubt I will at the pace I'm going.  I can't say it bothers me, but I can't say I'm all together comfortable with that, either.  "Don't dream it, be it."

I haven't written in a minute, and I'm pretty sure the world has continued spinning.  I've been back in LA almost 2 months now, and I'm making preparations to leave again.  I wouldn't say that leaving Korea was a mistake-not at all.  But it just so happens that I want to go back.  Or maybe China.  Or maybe Taiwan.  Or maybe...Po(rt)land.  Krakow.  Stockholm.  Heaven.  Jupiter.  Your anus.

I quit that nasty X-Mas light job.  Nothing made me feel shittier than waking up to my call time.  Naturally, it straps me for cash, but it beats stringing incandescent lights together all god damn day.  I was a "hedge master," which meant I was too inept to do anything else besides hedges.  I do regret not ever going up in the cherry picker.  That looked like a good time.

So I'm here on Wilcox again.  I type and I walk and I eat potato salad and I read.  I also drink heroic amounts of wine when the time is right.  And I'm cast in a movie.  I play Andrew.  He is supposed to have long, curly brown hair.  I believe I'll shave it.  But not before my interview with TALK tomorrow.

This post is all over the place.  If you fear you got lost along the way, kindly reprioritize your life.

I love you and I love you.

Bugs,
-LS^2

Elmer's so quiet.

Livin' the drea-ea-eam!

Lovesadhappyforever.