my skin, like my stomach, seems to still be adapting to the change. i think both preferred to be on the other side of the atlantic. my hands have never been so stubbornly unattractively spotted with white. i feel leprositic (that should be a word. among other things it goes so well with parasitic.) they simply laugh at my poor Lubriderm bottle until it looks frozen in offended dignity.
last night's entertainment was mediocre shakespeare, two gentlemen of verona, at carter baron, the in-the-park theater. otherwise i spent the day running around erranding, catching up w/ old friend johnny, job searching with/for lana, who was so bored later at two gentlemen that she wandered off while jamie and i stuck it out, laughing at the exaggerated sex jokes. people always play up the sex in shakespeare when they don't know what else to do.

still on my oldskool ani kick, i realized for the first time that i'm the age she was when she released the self-titled album. gives a new insight into the music, no? i remember not being able to wait til i was as old as the babysitters in the babysitter's club and then suddenly i was and i couldn't have cared less about them anymore. just like who, at seventeen, actually reads it?
but ani's different. at 19, she still seems older than i am: i'm determined to survive on this shore; you know, i don't avert my eyes anymore. in a man's world, i am a woman by birth, and after 19 times around i have found they will stop at nothing once they know what you are worth ... brings to mind immediate differences. for instance, survival is very low on my priority list. i'd say at the moment my priorities include: paddleboating this afternoon with dearfriend tamar, being able to fly to san diego with my mother tomorrow in relative comfort, finishing the sweet hereafter, and thinking of an idea for a movie. i'm starting a class when i return from do-gooding in swat on feature film screenwriting.

on another note entirely, though relevant to the theme of aging, i've been doing this for just about a year now. i started this webjournal, albeit under a different and ridiculous in retrospect name and with a design that i cringe to recall, the first week of june of last year. happy birthday, babblebook.