Bradlington,

Whenever I meet someone that works in advertising, I'm always 1) shocked that they are admitting to it 2) suspicious of them 3) curious and slightly beguiled by them, like I'm standing near a lesser devil in mythology 4) hey, so, Mad Men 5) hey, wasn't the husband on Bewitched in advertising 5) hey, wasn't the dad on the Brady Bunch in advertising oh no now I remember he was an architect. Speaking of advertising, I don't know if you heard, but our hot mutual friend who works in advertising and his hot girlfriend are getting married! Bill and oy vey I have forgotten her name. Uh. Well. Anyway, I would totally accept if they tried to seduce me as a couple. It should be clear at this point who I'm talking about.

On Sufjan: I wonder if All Delighted People would go to All Tomorrow's Parties.

Jarmoosh: First, I want to be whoever that girl is. Second, Oh My God. That clip has John Lurie in it! He is my number one. If people were candles, John Lurie would be duplicated and reduplicated on my birthday cake, lighting up my entire face. Unnngghh. Okay. I am going to try not to make this entire letter about how much I love John Lurie, am inspired by John Lurie, and am horrified that he can no longer make music because of the whole lyme disease sitch.




"I got a bone for you.
'Cause I'm a doggy,
and I'm naked almost all the time.
Bow Wow."

WHAT! That song is the whole point of music!

All right. First thing I did today was pray. This is new for me.
I wake up, sit on the side of my bed, lean over, put my hands over my face, and pray. Who am I praying to? Not sure. It doesn't feel religious to me. It's more like an "oh my god, help me fight Resistance today." It feels a little dumb, and also feels really good.
We may recall last night's intolerable act of serenading myself. I think I may now might be praying to myself. Y'know, to my inner goddess... (no.) No. It doesn't feel inwardly focused, and it's not really a pep-talk.
It's the quiet begging from a part of me that readily admits to feeling a humility toward dedicating my life to trying to create stuff. That part of me does not get heard very often, as 99% of the time, the awesome and impatient side of myself is leading the party, crashing through the forest, hitting up all the bitches.
So, in the morning when I am praying off the edge of my bed, the impatient part of myself wrinkles up its face and goes "who are you praying to? what is this? why are you doing this?" I look at it with both sides of my mouth sagging down and don't respond. "Fine. I don't approve" it says, then gets distracted and leaves me alone. While it's off in the other room, deciding what it wants for breakfast and figuring the day up and muttering to itself that I'm wasting my time, the emptier side of me sits alone on the side of the bed and prays.

I'm still trying to decide if it's stupid. It seems to be working. I feel like a warrior.

It gets more emo! While the sun was setting, I sat on the front lawn and listened to "All I Want" by Joni Mitchell and of course cried, even though all the bicyclists were bicycling right by my house and could just look over and see me being an ass. Whatever, it was barely a cry, like just the sides of my eyes got a little smeary. Then I spent like an hour learning it on guitar, and I could even upload my version onto here I wonder if I could do that!



META! META! META! EMO! EMO! EMO!

Virginia came into my room at the tail end of that and asked what I was doing. When I showed her, she said "you need to look at infinite cat immediately." I did. I have no problem saying it is better than me.

Then we watched Insane Clown Posse's new single.


Just... 0.46.
I could only watch this for 2 minutes before I started to feel like I wasn't going to make it through the rest of my life.

Then we watched Zinnia Jones, a transvestite atheist, give his/her opinion on the topic.


And that is how I realized it was 2 in the morning. How could our forefathers ever have foreseen any of this? If I could choose between going back in time and having a forefather come forward in time and getting to be his tour guide, I would pick the forefather in a minute. Specifically Ben Franklin.

What was the improv like?! Maybe that's too long ago to write about now. I understand if so. You can pretend I asked another question.

Portland is easy, and LA is war. I did not say either of those things first, but I believe them to be true. I am slowly piecing together my chainmail. I wish to the God Above you would start putting some of your illustrations into your letters.

Brad Brad Brad Brad Brad, who was busy with three Brads of his own,

Ariana