My toes tingle and I realize that the hot water of the bath and sweet crooning of Goldfrapp are a catalyst for the crisp white wine that I'm drinking. And it's now 3:49 as I write this and I'm no closer to sleep.

Some important facts about me:

-I have a real hard-on for The Joker, arrogant painters and animators.

-I am going to avoid having a real job for hopefully my entire life.

-Tonight I stayed home, drank wine and made a bustle with buckles and leather for my best friend, The Elmonster.

-I am, as of now, in love with Patrick Wolf and plan to use quantum physics to make him mine.

-I have very crooked bottom teeth. I did not wear my retainer, ever.


But in the very awake desperation of nearly four AM, trying to pi ck up the pieces of my very barren new phone (as you recall loves, I dropped my other in the bubbles of my bath-really, it's obvious now that drinking in the bathtub is my downfall.) -and I realize I need more people to call this time of night. Who's awake? Who's weird enough to have me call them and rant about the state of modern art in America? Or the sound of my heels on the hardwood? Or why I still listen to songs I listened to when I was seven? Because really, if I must tell you the truth (Oh, if I must, weren't we avoiding that all along?) I am growing so bored of the internet. It's just too damn easy. I find you much more interesting when something is at stake, even if it's our precious egos and exposed insecurity.

Oh I hate four AM. Something so stale about four AM. If you're not coming home with a stolen bag of chips and a temporary tattoo from your new best friends in the bathroom, there is just no reason to be so awake.

Have you ever climbed a fence in four-inch heels?

Do tell.
No, really. I'd like to hear about it.

Tell me your best story. I'd really like to know-not as a challenge, but as an interest.





I think this is worthy of a bulletin. This time of night who cares who I bother?


Oh I hate four AM.