There's no sunshine when she's gone....

But it's sunny where she is. Well, at least where I am. I am currently sitting in a "Downtown" (who knows what direction is up, over, or whatever, I'm in my own version of Ender's Game in LA) "It's a Grind" coffee shop. There is a feeling that I might start to be one of those people who just sit in the corner and observe people, plinking away on their keyboards, only to emerge with a Pulitzer award winning book thirty years down the road. I'd like to shorten my road to fame to about 3 years. Just kidding, I don't think I could handle fame. Well, I'd handle it, but dancing on rooftops and trying to get horrendous fashions into style just to smirk a bit. I have nine minutes until I head back home, its going to be me and Dr. Who for the rest of the night after I make my bed. That is not quite correct, I'm heading over to John and Anne's in a bit, I believe, need to get an oil change before my car comes alive with rage and sits outside my window angrily flashing its brights yelling "Give me one reason to stay here" in a very bluesey tone. I'm trying to stick as many obscure reference in here as possible so I can feel sneaky and cultured at the same time. It can be like a weekly crossword, only it will be my blog, and thus...less correctly spelled. The world would break down if I was in charge of Sunday Morning crosswords. I was hooked on phonics and it betrayed me. Burritoes. There should be an e in it. I'm craving a guitar, a sharpened pencil, and an empty auditorium. Might be teaching gymnastics to young unsuspecting children, totally psyched. Mostly cause then I can get my hand on some uneven parallel bars, at which point the angels will sing and I will realize how out of shape I have become. Although the previous trouncing at Tom's house already gave me that feeling. Maybe I will go running, barefoot, through the streets of LA. I will get exercise and perhaps some news coverage as the resident lunatic. "It's a Grind" has better chai than Starbucks. There, I said it. I am officialy a traitor and will have to be marched through town with a backwards apron and a white coned hate with latin words scrawled on it. My mind has awesome pictures in it right now. I'ts time to go home to the roommate, scribble some more in the journal (I love how the word journal made it ok for "grownups" to keep a diary). I am suprizingly peaceful at the moment, I think all the looking for jobs in the non-profit sector made me feel all lovey and do-goody. Minus the evil glint in my eye, as I think about ice cream in the freezer and "Exterminate" rings through the night....