Field of Daize’s

LA is a weird city. I saw a hobo outside the house the other day. He was completely looney…. kicking bottle caps and shouting profanities. Yet he seemed to have an iPod. Things are weird here.

I’m very sorry to say that I haven’t had net access since I got here. I can imagine people take my lack of net-precense to mean that I don’t care. That… as usual.. is ot the case. I’ll get around to it… this weekend. For now, I’m at the studio.. and it is kinda hard to get into anything deeper than a short entry.

Between trying to dance, and finding a decent cup of coffee (not succesful on that front yet), life is quite hectic.

That, offcourse, is not nearly the whole story. The whole story is just not to be published on these pages. This diary is a strange thing. It has been many things for me these past two (three?) years, and it’s purpose is by no means fluid. The truth, quite evidently, is that I am more and more hesitant to post anything too personal in here. Why? Well, because it is my freakin’ diary, and I can do whatsoever I please with it.

My lifei is by no means simple at the moment. But for the time being, it shall be played out in real life, not as a drama out in the open. I’m not that type of person, and never have been. For those of you who care, however, I am going through a sketchy patch. Perhaps this is an understament. All I will say is that there are so many people right now that I would like to be able to call up, for some confort.

Don’t worry… I shan’t be locking myself up and playing Peral Jam while I whine. Rather, know that if you are reading this, then you are quite likely to be in my thoughts, and that your silent existance at least keeps me hopefull that things can only get better.

My life is being played out in real life. I cannot stress that enough.