The birthday party for Desiree was so fantastic! except for the fact I felt so dizzy the whole time I thought I was going to faint. These hormones are kicking my ass, knocking me down, and then spitting on my face while I'm down on the sidewalk, sobbing.

There was a good crowd, and they seemed to like my poetry, except for the parts when everyone was talking and I couldn't hear myself over the buzz. They all shut up every time they heard the word "cunt", however, which makes me think I need to make my poems dirtier, just to get attention -- like the unkempt, smelly girl in second grade who could only get people's attention by lifting her skirt and showing her flowered panties. Not that I knew anyone like that.

Anyway, pictures --

Desiree


Crazy funny yelling man, in a performance about pre-adolescent swimming pool hijinks


And who's this?



and funn-ness prevailed at least until I had to leave and wobble myself all the way home.