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About

This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

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I'm Gish. I guess this is what one can call the remnants of a pre-mid-life crisis. I listen to too much music and read too many books, and it all means nothing. Abrasive, I smoke too much, drink too much coffee and hardly sleep. Alive. Be sure to check out the new links to blogs, photos, music and other sorts of good stuff at the very bottom of the page.

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my name is mud

Stamped: 6:40 PM

Forgot password again. Maybe it's me, maybe it's Blogger Beta action. I have no idea. I'm still in the throes of recovering from the Halloween party at the Townehouse on Saturday night. Yes, I am aware it is Monday evening.

Things feel off kilter, not quite right. Something missing, or maybe I forgot again. Whatever it is, I hope it resolves itself by tomorrow. I can't keep walking this line.

Ok, if I were the perfect girl, I'd be adding photos all the time. Thing is, still no cable. I was a bandit in a leather corset at the party. Think Zorro, but...female. I tottered around on highheeled boots all evening, then ended up at some friends house, talking about being a poser. I may have to kick him the next time I see him.

But I guess I can be a poser. Anything is possible, right?

Hung my sheets out on the line today. Fall air. Green 400 thread count, swinging in the air. Now, the dogs are sleeping on clean sheets and I've decided to watch Carnivale again since I didn't pay too much attention the first time. It's amazing what *I* miss when I'm not looking.

London calling. Still.

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