FINE FRENCH FRIEDNESS

I feel fried. Fried like the one forgotten french fry stuck in the boiling oil.

2 x wild party, musical all weekend from early morning till sundown, homework, homework, homework, cleaning, going to work ect. ect. ect.

But I like being bussy. I think I have a perpetual fear of being restless, a fear of wasting life on stuff that does not matter. What a life, not doing anything. Being nobody.

So really I like feeling fried. Knowing that my life, my dreams, my everyday is not a total waste is after all worth the friedness in the end.

BjöÖöÖöÖöÖöÖöÖöÖrk

... Long day...

My room is a big fat mess. But it always is though. Mother is yelling, but she always is though.

Scenery construction all afternoon for the big musical at school. Paint everywhere. Even between my toes. Wondering how it got there, because I was wearing socks all the time. Who knows?

Not looking forward to gym class tomorrow. We are studying swimming techniques. Not fun.

And now I shall sleep. Goodnight dear.

Tunafish, my favorite dish

Life is art. art is life. no life, no art. art or life or none?. life and art. art and life. no life without art. an art to live life. if art, then life. any art. any life. life of the arts. my life. my art.

SAN FRANSISCO