I drink V8 from the carton. A corner of my living room is draped in aluminum foil...still. I've been listening to Arabic Pop...and it needs to stop. I vacuum at least three times a week but I rarely take the time to make my bed. I have class in an abandoned tobacco warehouse. I'm always thinking about my next photograph. My dog has a jacket that makes her look like Marilyn Monroe on her wedding day. I have too many bad days. I want out of the US...again. I'm afraid to donate blood. I get weak just typing that. I burn far too much incense for one person. I still think having a prairie dog as a pet is pretty fucked up. I miss giving tours of the Capitol Building and riding the Senate metro. I have no plans for tomorrow. None! I'm awaiting my wealthy benefactor. I get discouraged when the art students wear normal clothes. No one takes chances anymore. I want to take a chance. I wore a diamond tiara to the horse races...but that doesn't really count. I scribble notes relentlessly, especially in the margins of poli-sci textbooks, mostly bitter and polysyllabic. I'm still unemployed, and it's pissing me off. I think I'm qualified to take mugshots at the county jail...somebody's got to do it, and I'm willing.