A list of any name…

As 2009 comes to an end, I have begun to reflect on the last 10 years of my life.  I’ve had my ups and my downs… been sideways at times, too.   For most people I graduated with, this decade was a time to establish roots, plan for a future, make babies and fall in love.  Hell, I saw the word “adult” creeping up on me, and I went running in the opposite direction.  Now don’t start pointing the finger of regret at me just yet – I’ve enjoyed this time more than I’ve led you to think and the last thing I can imagine myself as is locked up in a career I despise, married to some dead beat who treats me like dirt, and never doing the things I enjoy… when I want to.   With that being said – by plan for the next ten years of my life is really quite simple… “wake up laughing.”

Here’s some other things I wouldn’t mind accomplishing over the next 10 years:

• seek enjoyable employment
• make it to my 10-day Costa Rican adventure trip
• drive across the country again
• Take a large group of friends to EPCOT! <3
• own a loft or condo in close vicinity to a metropolitan area
• make it through a 13-day meditation retreat
• attend each and EVERY concert and festival that comes my way
• fall further in love with my friends and cherish every moment with them
• rise above my winter driving anxiety
• “Vargo” through Europe
• make millions off one of my genius inventions and/or scams
• find a way to make Jesus live forever*
• learn how to properly take photos
• remove the broken glass out of the nooks and crannies of my car
• … and find a bit of humor in everything that comes my way.

That doesn’t seem to much to ask.  Now who wants to help fund this adventure?  REMEMBER:  the Digi Foundation link can be found on my myspace profile.   Donate as much as you can, as often as you like.  Just pennies a day can help sponsor a poor child like myself.  Do the right thing.

*mucho importando for my sanity as a future adult

Dear A:

sometimes, I take my foot off the pedal… and let myself coast.  I wish I could turn my lights off and roll through the darkness and feel only the wind on my skin. I yearn for a distraction from the thoughts that consume me.  I allow the lights behind me to pass… and envy their courage… because I’m the one stuck there… blank.  I sit at that STOP far too many moments to count… and ponder.  Should I take that right turn… or stick straight and see where the night might take me.

it doesn’t leave, A.  just worsens.  yet I take that drive.

I still remember them whenever I look in my rearview mirror and I tap the carpeted roof in their memory.  they’d wish better of me.  yet  it’s always the same sad route home.  its always the memories passed.

“oh that song keeps singing.  singing into me.  soft and sweet.  it carries me… out to sea.  and swallows me…“

Always,

//D.

digital feedback

I may be gone, but people still seem to love me.

Check these two reviews (from Blogged.com):

(9 out of 10) Boobs, booze and brilliance is packed inside of this tiny bombshell. Laying in Bed with Charlie is a blog buffet, a wide range of delightful insight on independence, avoiding destruction and debauchery. In her blogging kitchen, she creates feasts that our minds have a strong appetite for. Though I am stuffed, I keep coming back for more:)

(10 out of 10) Laying In Bed With Charlie is nothing less than a modern digital masterpiece — a cornucopia of random thoughts and ideas, bitterly honest and appealing. Every new entry reflects an electrifying personality and one hell of a sense of humor. As a fellow writer, I can honestly say that Digi’s constant creativity is a welcome source of inspiration. Wherever I may wander, I always find my way back to her words… my only port in the storm, my home.

God save those two… they obviously lack real taste.

define. pick a number.

Throughout life, one does not miss any chance to hold onto the things that are really precious, if one is truly wise.

-Ed Greenwood

pre·cious (prshs)

adj.

1. Of high cost or worth; valuable.

2. Highly esteemed; cherished.

3. Dear; beloved.

4. Affectedly dainty or overrefined: precious mannerisms.

5. Informal Thoroughgoing; unmitigated: a precious mess.

6. very affected in speech, manners, or behaviour

n.

1. One who is dear or beloved; a darling.

Be careful with the words you choose.

3 Double Cafe Lattes and a Chai Tea

originally aired September 19, 2004

This is what happens to you if you sit in a coffee house alone for three and a half hours with nothing but a small notepad and a pen… enjoy.
==========================================
Page One
I’m sitting alone in what seems to be hell but rather I am surrounded by faces of the kind. Again – that idle chit chat – starting to miss that meaningless chatter. What ever happened to that ray of light, that sign from above? Fortune cookie predicts that “You have an ambitious nature and you will make a name for yourself.” What happens when you’ve already received that name but misplaced or borrowed it out along the way. Is there a Lost and Found for my dignity? my self respect? my existence?? Someone please…
Heal Me.
==========================================
Page Two
I dont write to make sense or to enlighten any voyeur that decides to peep through these pages. I write to kill a memory – if just for a second. I write to put my mind somewhere else – anywhere but here. I am not particularly skilled or scholared in literature, poetry, and especially spelling or grammar – and – dont plan to be. I’m not faking a “face” for you. You wont get me – now or ever. “Lost cause,” they said. Lost… but who really knows the cause?
========================
Page Two Part II
Good times may come tonight. Find a star and wish. wish.
==========================================
Page Three
There really should be no such thing as a “smoke free” coffee house… just as it goes for a “smoke free” bar. All the addictions or pleasures I have in life are always looked at with a sore eye.
========================
Page Three Part II
Listening in on a conversation not meant for me to hear – but I took certain pleasure invading their privacy. I heard glimpses of tandem enlightenment I hoped I could take in. Statements such as “relationships are…” and “the trick to happiness is…” were all cut short by the overpowering sound of espresso creation. One sugar, two creamers – is that what happiness is?

==========================================
Page Three
I have a voice that no one has heard and I am afraid to let it out. I’m afraid that it would be more like panicked screams rather than the beautiful melody I’ve rehearsed so many times in my head. If I keep bottling up all this fear and random emotion I may explode and live in the solitude of my own psyche for the rest of my known life. Who wants to hear me? Who really cares??

==========================================
Page Four
There are millions out there worse off than me – but I dont feel half as sorry for them as I currently do for myself.
=========================
Page Four Part II
By the way, I feel dirty using a blue pen.
==========================================
The End.

Bonne Chance & Chicken Nuggets by the Impeccably Undomesticated

originally aired September 5, 2008

I spent my morning like I do most while visiting my mother’s house – emails, resume posting, some TiVo or Wii, emails and then more job seeking. I must have applied to about 15 jobs today with the majority of them returning some sort of SPAM message into my inbox. Its enough to make a career-desperate woman like me completely infuriated… and… hungry.

I’m not much of a cook (ask anyone), but I decided that to attempt homemade chicken nuggets. If I wasn’t so excited about this little science experiment, I would have looked online for some sort of recipe or simple directions but I decided to take the task into my own hands and have a go at MarthaStewartdom.

I started by gathering my imagined ingredients – 2 frozen chicken breasts, bread crumbs, french fried onions (that should be good in anything, right?), oregano, dill weed (I put this in everything)… and ONE egg… and egg I soon found to be magical… and egg so egg-straordinary (i’m going too far now) that it may just be the sign I’ve been looking for all this time.

Thing is – I’m a woman of numbers and signs. I believe in these events and numbers (one in particular) so deeply that I am certain that they have an impact on my life. Although I am not religious, I believe that I am blessed in one way or another… and these signs help me realize that fact on a daily basis. Anyway – back to the egg…

I defrosted my chicken in the microwave, crushed the french fried onions and mixed it with my bread crumbs, oregano and dill… and then cracked my egg. I almost broke out into spontaneous dance when I saw that the egg that I had chosen… the one of nine that I could have grabbed… had TWO yolks! “Its a sign! Another sign!” I exclaimed from within. This mystical mutant of an egg must mean that all the hard work I’ve been putting into things might soon pay off… something good is about to happen.

At this point I was glowing and doing a mini tapdance and decided that I had to share the great news with my mother. I dialed her office into the phone (still dancing) and when she picked up, I exclaimed “Mom! Mom! You’ll never guess it! I cracked an egg and it had siamese yolks! Twin yolks, mom! Its the craziest thing!” to where she laughed and said “Dana… ha… those are jumbo eggs. They all have two yolks, dipshit.” and then continued laughing.

With my spirit then crushed, I scrambled my unmagical egg and continued on with my cooking adventure.They turned out terribly. I’ve never tasted such bland, flavorless chicken in all my life. I’m sure they would have tasted 100% better if I had never contacted my mother and believed I was eating some sort of two-yolked mojo nugget.

============================================================
While typing this post, I decided to look into this wild “siamese egg phenomenon” (my yolks were connected… making them even more special) and found out that not ALL jumbo eggs have dos yolks!
SO THERE MOM! HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT, DREAM CRUSHER!
============================================================

Dear Canada :

Living just a kick-flip away from you, I’m able to pick up Sarnia and London radio stations.  Now I’ve come to understand your language and your accent (I’ve even been known to speak “Canadian” when I’m intoxicated)… but there’s this one thing that erks me every time I hear it.  The word “hospital” is a common noun… not a proper noun like “Cleveland” or “Wonkaville”.  And for this reason, it requires you to place the word “the” in front of it.

.

“Yesterday’s storm spurred numerous accidents along the 402.  Emergency crews arrived swiftly, transporting two people to hospital for treatment.“

WTF is that?  You don’t hear anyone saying “Hey honey, I’m off to store.  Would you like me to pick anything up?”  It’s THE hospital!!  THE!

… and don’t even get me started on “anymore” (misused all over).  Ooooh… if you ever want to see me red-faced, throw that misuse out there.  Sure, it states that it can be used in a positive tense in many published documents… but NOT IN MY BOOK, Mister… and my book is gold.   “Hey.  Have you seen Olivia?  She’s looking good anymore.”  I hate you.  I really fucking hate you people.  (not you… the assholes… meaning everyone BUT me)

Thank you for the entertainment you’ve allowed me over the years.
And thank you for banning me from your fine country.

thrice

.

.

she raised her lips from his collar to his ear.
“I love you.”

without  misstep or hesitation in their muted waltz, he replied
“always.”

find me… and we shall dance.

.

.

.

.

Tom Waits – Picture In a Frame
(hover over & press play)

so you think I should move to the city??

originally aired September 22, 2004

Transplanting the many forms of Dana (danus raverosus) can be a challenging and timely process. Please keep these key factors in mind:

- Dana cannot survive in direct sunlight, please place her in a shaded area to keep her from wilting.
- Please mix her water with fertilizer She responds well to mixtures of vodka, whiskey, and rum. Please stay clear of any cheap mixes or wine coolers.
- At some time during her growth process, she may need some sort of formal education.
- When restless, play softcore porn or music with sexual influence. She will settle down.
- Dana loves the nightlife, to have a well rounded specimen, you will absolutely need to take her out regularly.

Congratulations on your new purchase. With the right amount of care, Dana will grow into a loving, kind-hearted companion. Have Fun!!

Dana Growers of America(DGA)2004

Good Girls Go To Heaven. I Go EVERYWHERE.


Voicemails by BusterGetMyPills, Drunky Brewster, Matt Johnson and B2De.

Finally finished my 2008 Review.  Photos from my journeys all over the country  and a few voicemail messages from friends.   I spent nearly 9 months living out of a suitcase and lived in the majority of the cities for minimum of a week.  Best year of my life.

Disney On Ice (tour bus and plane)

• Started in Detroit
• Portland, OR *
• Everett, WA *
• Seattle, WA *
• Spokane, WA *
• Denver, CO **
• Los Angeles / Hollywood **
• Anaheim, CA *
• Long Beach, CA *
• Las Vegas, NV *
• Phoenix, AZ *
• San Diego, CA *
• Fresno, CA *
• Sacramento, CA *
• Stockton, CA *
• San Jose, CA *
• Oakland, CA *
• Salt Lake City, UT *
• Kansas City, MO *
• Miami, FL “
• Jacksonville, FL *
• Columbia, SC *
• Columbus, GA *
• Tampa, FL *

Obama Tour (drove most of this trip)

• Flint, MI
• Farmington Hills, MI
• Lebanon, VA
• Cleveland, OH
• Manchester, NH
• New York City, NY
• Las Vegas, NV
• Santa Fe, NM
• Flagstaff, AZ
• Back to Las Vegas, NV

Parties

• Rothbury Festival (4 Days)
• DEMF / Movement Festival (3 Days)
• Radiohead, Cleveland, OH / Nelson Ledges, Portage Co., OH (2 Days)
• NightSneak / DaySneak, Detroit (2 Days)
• Boat Night (2 Days)
• + Many More

(* = one week  ** = two weeks)

Yesterday Takes The Cake

Stephen Lynch – “Craig”
(hover over & press play).

Whenever I need a good laugh, I rummage through my stats to see how people are getting to me.  Never have I had a day with such interesting searches.  I have to ask Google :: “Why Me?!“

This is not a sexual blog whatsoever… so whats up with the cell phone insertion tag?  And whats a “DONK”???

Sounds more like something that would send people to “This Buddy of Mine” or “Get Wright” which are both blogs of incredible poor taste.  Shame!

What are some of the weird ones you guys are getting??

Wuh, Wuh, Wuh. Two Dots.

I know the majority of us, especially us netters, have been spoiled with digital television for quite some time.  In fact, we’re so cool, we’ve moved up to HD… TiVo, LCD Flats and Blueray.

As the deadline for the digital switch (Feb 17th) draws closer, I want you all to to remember the little people… more importantly, those crippled little people we like to call our grandparents, the musty old guy next door and the creep who lives in your basement.  Start your year off right by helping these poor souls switch their sets.  Lord only knows what will happen or how many surprise visits we’ll get if they don’t have their precious babysitter… I mean… “stories”… to keep them occupied.

I’m a little sad to wave goodbye to analog.  Some of my favorite memories were spent sitting perched in my Nana and Grandpa Joe’s living room watching The Price Is Right (fun on Wii, btw) on an ancient, turn-knob set while eating cottage cheese.

Good Bye, Rabbit Ears.

Pimp Yo Life

.

.

When Pimpin’ Yo Ride Just Aint Enough –

.

.

XZIBIT brings us these::.

Singing Songs and Carrying Signs…

“Hippy” is an establishment label for a profound, invisible, underground, evolutionary process.  For every visible hippy, barefoot, beflowered, beaded, there are a thousand invisible members of the turned-on underground.  Persons whose lives are tuned in to their inner vision, who are dropping out of the TV comedy of American Life.

-Tomothy Leary

.

Arlo Guthrie – Alice’s Restaurant Massacree
(hover over & press play)
.

HIPPIES OF THE WORLD : I’m not prejudice against your kind.  Hell – I love you guys.  I love your music, your organic turkey wraps, your happy combination of both loud and muted colors, your awareness of nature, your festivals, your naked dancing bodies in the rain, your handmade goods, your happy hippy babies and your willingness to share the “goods“.

But just like any social clique out there, there’s some bad apples up in your mix.  Bitter, bruised and not-suitable-for-horse-feed type hippies.  Bobby Brown hippies who ruin it for the pleasant and kind Whitney hippies. We don’t like Bobby Brown hippies.

Dont Be Bobby.

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Obama Made Me A Woman

click to view tour pics

I hope none of you out there under the impression that I’ve always been a strong follower and supporter of political happenstance – because it just aint so.  To tell you the truth, I had no idea about what was going on in or outside of Washington just up until this past September… and to continue with my honesty, I just didn’t give a damn.  The only things that ever really kept my attention for more than three minutes was a good beat, a good soup and bright lights.

If you think I paraded around the country with an equally mixed group of carnies and hippies for the politics, you’re crazy.  I had no idea about Obama’s agenda, his story… or how cute he looks when he smiles at Michelle.  I like to travel.  Shit – I LOVE IT.  I sure didn’t work for the “Devil In White Gloves” for the family values.    I did it for the travel… and a little for the bitches.

How did I happen to fall onto this crazy train?  Simple.  All it took was a phone call from a good buddy of mine, Joe Cool.

“Hey Dana!  You want to go to New York City for 9/11 and sell buttons?”

Pffft!  I immediately packed and left ten hours later.  I’m JUST THAT EASY.

click to view other photos

What was supposed to last four days, turned into a few  weeks and was one of the best times of my life.  I wrote about the majority of the experience in “The Obama Tour : Classy Edition” and you can also read some of the funny  quotes I took down along the way along with a short video of Joe Cool (acting as a drunken me)  in “Quotes From the Road“.

Do I continue to not care?  No.  At the end of our journey, while we were having a couple drinks, we turned to each other and laughed when we caught ourselves “politic’in” with the locals.  We caught the vibe.  We got the bug.  And we felt a passion.

If you’re ever lucky enough to see Obama in the flesh and hear him speak, I believe you’d understand.  We went to a number of rallys, but were only able to see him speak twice – once in New Hampshire and again in New Mexico.  I cant describe it – but it felt like he was talking to each person there as if they were the only person at the event.  Women wept, children danced… they were incredible sites.  He honestly did give HOPE and spread that hope to thousands at a time.

In my 8 years of legal voting age, this election was my first.  And I am proud.

click to view tour pics

So today I set myself up on the sofa ready and proud to watch my candidate come into office and felt an incredible amount of emotion come over me.  Not just because of the historical significance that comes along with his presidency, but because for the first time in my life, I felt like I cared about something truly important… and I felt like an honest-to-god adult.  I may have only taken a few baby steps, but I really believe that I’m getting somewhere.

So after I wiped my face of the remnants of my “Color Guard” weep session, I called my mother at her office to make certain she was watching a streaming feed.  She was… good mommy!   We chit chat for a bit about Hillary and the Carters and then she rudely demanded that I run outside to grab spinach & asiago sausages from the freezer to thaw.  Knowing there was just minutes until Obama hit the spotlight, I refused… which turned into a bit of a battle.

Mom : “Get EM”
Me: “NO! I wanna watch this live!”
Mom : “But I need them thawed for dinner!”
Me: “I’m not pausing ‘Bama for your sausages!”
Mom : “Just go get them!”

then I noticed Rev. Rick Warren was delivering the evocation…

Me: “GOD DAMMIT MOTHER!  We’re supposed to be PRAYING!”
Mom : “Jeeeesus Christ.  I gotta go.”

Look!  All grown up and standing up to my mommy.  Thanks Obama!

Dry Humping the Ride Home

has a Canadian radio station ever made you throw your hands up in praise for a gem its thrown your way… no matter how sadly pathetic the sound quality may be?

90.3FM, a London-based radio station did just that to me about fifteen minutes ago when it sent Kia Kadiri, a Vancouver bred songbird, my way.

THIS SONG (Who Are We) is amazing. I’d love to embed it, but you’ll have to check it through Last.fm.   You can listen to FULL VERSIONS of her other tracks on the site as well.  I prefer the ones with the jazzy/reggae undertones … I find the guitar in “Hands Up” a bit garish but it in no way deters me from wanting to hear more from her.

.

With that being said – Thanks Canada.
And don’t worry – I still promise to never step foot on your precious bridge again.  Assholes.

.

.

( the Digi-hate is so strong in the north, that they even refuse to aknowlege me as a visitor to their site )

Dammit, SON!! Can’t ya READ??

graphic by Matt Forsythe

I posted a discussion on 20sb about Google Reader a couple days ago and it surprised me the amount of emails I received from users who have either 1. never heard about it, and 2. are confused as to how to use it.

The people at Google (god bless, em) put together some guides and videos (both by users and google) to help the novice RSS‘er get acquainted with this tool.
.

Detroit Grand Pubahs “Sandwiches”
(hover over & click play).

• Google Reader For Beginners!!!
• CNET : “Newbie Guide to Google Reader“
• Firefox :  Add-ons
• Video : “Google Reader In Plain English“

RSS (rich site summary) is a simple way to keep up on all your favorite online material including blogs, syndicated sites and even TWEETS .  There’s no need for us to fumble through hundreds of links and bookmarks in this day and age just so you can read about some NIT WIT TEEN who got caught using a tampon applicator to snort her blow (ameteur)… why not have the magical internet fairy deliver them to you (dont ask her to do much else, she’s minx’y little bitch).
There are many readers out there (even in Outlook) but I enjoy using Google Reader the best first because of its ease of use and secondly because its web based.  This means you can catch up an all the goods while out on the town – & even check them on your phone (perfect for church or community service)!

..

What do you think of Google Reader?  Do you use anything else?
What do  you RSS?
Want me to add your site or blog?  Tell me why!
I prefer to read THE ONION on the toilet. How about you?

He Loves To Blow My Horn

 

pure internet dorkage

Dana Braun : Not a prostitute to my knowledge, but she eats apples as far as I know

“She’s one of my favorite people, best pals, and preferred whack jobs.  She’s one of the members of the short list of people I’m genuinely, honestly glad I know.  The stupid, friendlyvolleys in the links here bare that out, if you’re weird and have weird friends, you’ll catch that quick. She also has a mighty prominent set of bosoms, which is a nice bonus in a friend. As long as that friend’s a woman. I assume Dana really is female, though I’ve never lifted her tail to verify.” click here to continue reading Digi Tribute.

..

.
..

To My Dearest Mark :

I appreciate all the wonderful things you had to say about me in what I must say is a lovely tribute.  I’ve often wondered over the years why more and more people haven’t written dedications to me.  I imagine they have – but keep them tucked under their pillows in hope that I visit them in their dreams.
You, on the other hand, have an agenda… I can smell it plastered all over your idiotic blog.  You, more than anyone, know that a post like that would easily agitate a long, drawn-out and passionate rebuttal from me (hence sending more traffic to your site).  Well sir, I refuse to allow my blog to become your wet dream!!   However — I will tell you this…

I NEVER LISTEN TO YOUR STUPID RADIO SHOW
I HATE YOUR CAT
I DONT EAT APPLES (prostitution questionable,  pending trial)

your adoring friend,

yeah yeah… you got your links…
i have trouble showing how much I
love you without having to crawl out of the
thick, scabby infestation of hate first.

‘Higher Power’ Saves Detroit Festival 2 Years In A Row.

Whats In Store For Year 10??

This year will mark the 10th anniversary of Detroit’s famous electronic music festival – beginning as DEMF, renamed to Fuse-In and now, Movement.   People from all over the world gather at Hart Plaza during this 3-Day explosion of ear-banging debauchery… but no two have worn through it greater that the nearly-wedded, crazy cackling, techno ’singing’,  whiskey-hitting duo of Digi (myself) and Drunky Brewster.

Fans, followers and critics alike have studied this team’s antics over the years and are quite amazed at how through even the roughest of times, these two always seem to show up early Saturday morning, liquor in tow, shoes-a-blingin’, ready to dance.   But what happened in ‘07 and ‘08 to this seemingly inseparable pair??  Some believe it was the workings of a protective ‘higher power’.

As you may remember, Digi and Drunky refused to speak to one another during the ‘07 festivities due to a fight which broke out just days before the weekend.  And the pair split up yet again last year due to a security raid in their hotel room which then spread into horrific name calling, sobbing and parking lot verbal beat-downs.

It has been said that these arguments were caused in part by an act of ‘GOD‘ in order to preserve the sanctity of the festival… and the sanity of some of its loyal festie-goers.    Professionals agree that the twosome might be too strong a power for one tiny city to take on in such a condensed amount of time… so ‘god’ intervened by throwing them both on their period, filling them with rage…  thus separating this whirlwind of party mayhem into two distinctive and more manageable parts.

Will God step in between these two party specialists once again??
Whats in store for Rothbury Part Deux?

Well kids, there’s only 125 left until we find out!  Lets hope Armageddon doesn’t come early.

now that I think of it…
CAN I REALLY HANDLE A 10th YEAR??

Paper Chasin’

Riddle me this, interweb and interwebbers ::  when exactly do you receive your college refund check?

Bootleg + MC Breed “No Future”

(hover over button & press play)

I’ve always paid for college with cash, but with times being so “rough”, I’ve called upon the assistance of financial aid, the NWLBprogram and… ahem… the dreaded student loan.

NOTE: If you live in Michigan, are a college student or are thinking about going to college or trade school in the future – PLEASE look into the  “No Worker Left Behind Program“.   Who wouldn’t want $10,000 for college with no strings attached??  Not only that – the program is paying for my fuel, helping with insurance (one month as of now), and will be helping with new tires and brake repairs.  Best of all, anyone can sign up (as long as you live in MI & earn under $40k a year).

Why am I so anxiously waiting for these funds?  Here’s a list of just some of the things I am in need of :

• car insurance (for a BMW)
• new windshield (again, for a BMW)
• fuel (PREMIUM.  I’m kicking myself for buying that car)
• new PC or laptop repair
• THIN CLOTHES! / work and play
• health/dental insurance
• debts (≈ $600), Joe Cool ($250+) & Kevin Sturtz ($30)
• DEMF fund
• Rothbury fund (most important thing on list)
• vitamins (fish oil, liquid b12, biotin + many more)
• new cell phone + 6mo of service
• solar lights, new tent, hammock, weather balloon
• WordPress upgrade so I can embed the music player ($20)

Please Student Loan Network… send me some cash.  I promise… there’s at least some future in my frontin’!

D Double.  I Proclaim My Name.

Prostitute Eats An Apple. News @ 9

I really hate to discourage my new readers, but the intro to this post is merely to prove a point.  It’s a point none of you will understand… none, that is, but one.

.

.

Prostitute Eats An Apple
Prostitute Eats An Apple
Prostitute Eats An Apple
Prostitute Eats An Apple

I just killed your legacy.

.

With that being said, I want to welcome you all into 2009.   I know I’m two weeks late, but you’ll have to learn to appreciate my passionate and long-lived relationship with Lady Procrastination.  Perhaps that should be one of your resolutions.  In fact, I’d prefer that it was.  I know I haven’t posted as frequently as I have in the previous 5 years… but I guarantee you quality… or at least a good chuckle.

Please kids, learn how to

On-campus schooling began for me last night.  My “books” for Med Term didn’t show up until just as I was pulling down the drive.   I say “books” because they weren’t books at all… they were flashcards… not at all what I thought I was ordering.  Now instead of saving money, I will be dishing out additional (and non existent) funds at the campus bookstore to pick up a NEW copy of the required book which so nicely also comes with flashcards.

“what does she intend to do with two sets of med term flashcards?”

Well kids… I’m going to lovingly tear apart one set and study chapters one and two the majority of the week.  Get an A in the class and exfoliate my ass daily so that the dean has somewhere soft to place her lips once I make her prestigious list.

After I’ve stewed long enough about the extra $78 I just handed over to the school (money which should be going to the Rothbury fund), you’ll probably see me on the news fighting off paramedics and police officers after I have let sail approximately 300 FLAMING educational leaflets on an overpass.  I just pray they take note of my dedication for I plan to fold each tiny card into a high performance, death-wielding, kamikaze paper airplane… OF DOOM!

… now can someone please sell me their xanax script …

Ask Digi #6: Seven Seconds In Heaven

The lovely and surprisingly talented DankoRamone (aka  “Mark Who Ignores His Friends On NYE” as I like to call him), apparently tagged me in a meme.

Although I usually despise these games of  “cat chase mouse,” I’ll do it to humor MARK… for he is my friend and the brown shirt I curl up to nightly strangely smells of him.

Today’s MEME flavor :  7 strange or unique facts about yourself.  Here we go…

I prefer to drink with straws and eat with small forks

Coffee, soda, water, cocoa and sometimes tea… I’ll always grab a straw.  Call it grill sensitivity, call it OCD… call it what you like.  This broad only sucks through plastic.

The fork thing is OCD… I’m sure of it.  I will dig through a silverware drawer well until after my food has gone cold just to find a dessert or salad fork to eat with.   Perhaps it makes the food taste better… perhaps its an optical illusion to make my mouth look larger and more attractive.  Nah… no reason for it.  Nope.

What can I say…  I’m just a lady of preference.

I once accidentally stripped at Biscos in Emmett, MI

Age: 18 yrs.  My girlfriend asked me to support her on amateur night at one of the ghetto-ist clubs in Michigan.  While she sat at the bar pussing out before her dance, I was being propositioned by a businessman via blond stripper to do a dance of my own.
At first I turned him down, but once he offered me $500 for a private dance… and remembering that my boyfriend at the time gave me permission to take off my top… I agreed.  Once the deal was made and the handshake took place, the blonde dancer took me in the back room to get changed.

She threw me in a sheer tu-tu with green trim, nylons (for safety purposes)… and offered me a pair of pumps that I quickly turned down.  Its embarrassing enough that I’ve talked myself into doing this… but to trip and break an ankle in heels… no way!

I was next ushered to the bar where I perused the cd book under spray painted red lights to find my once-in-a-lifetime striptease soundtrack – “Like A Virgin”.   The bartender threw it into the boombox (I cant make this up) and I was off.  I stepped up on stage and gave those boys my most seductive dance moves… I was poppin’, lockin’…  I even think there was a bit of shimmyin’… I was having a blast… until I realized that I completely forgot to take the top off!!

There must have been only about twenty seconds of the song left because I could see my friend pointing to her watch so I scrambled to get the damn thing off.  As I panicked, I ended up getting caught in the top with my arm akwardly stuck in front of my face hindering my breathing, half in the shirt and out.  After about ten seconds fighting with the thing, one of the lovely ladies came up and helped me pull it off.  Graceful, I know.  The song was already over by the time I got it off and I stood there like “yeah… these are my tits.  OMG!”  I covered myself up and ran off stage to change into my lady clothes.

Completely embarrassed and too young to order a drink, I approached the business man to apologize.  He laughed and handed me $300 because he said he appreciated my “innocence”.  It don’t get any better than that, kids!

I was born pigeon-toed

What does that mean?  I means that while I was developing, my shins or ankles were twisted, making my feet point inward.

Don’t laugh.  Its not funny.  So un-funny that my mom told me over pancakes this morning that she often cried because I was such a pathetic mess.

I did get to wear special shoes (not much unlike today)… and I’m sure I received a lot of sympathy love from relatives that may or may not have paid that much attention to me otherwise.

Although this was corrected at a young age, I can see that my feet are going back to that position.  Need to train my ankles back into shape!

CLICK BELOW READ REST OF MEME

Turn, Turn, Turn…

.click link to view blog entries.

One year ago yesterday, I was in Seattle, WA… on a Greyhound bus on my way to a sexual predator’s (click to read) home in Spokane.  A few days later, I was kidnapped by two different men on two different dates… who both replied to my Craigslist ad (click to read) .  Those were the days.  Those were the times.  How I miss what once was.

The holiday season is here again.  I have more time on my hands than ever, which gives me plenty of time to reminisce about the things I’ve done in seasons passed… especially last year.   Boy how things have changed.  No longer am I pummeling through the country, city to city, week by week… but I’m living my greatest fear – stagnancy.  A life that was full of nothing but new experiences, relationships and challenges is now life behind a screen hoping for a call-back.

I wont be eating my Thanksgiving meal alone in a freezing gas station (click to read) this time around… instead, my 3.5oz of turkey will be ingested with family.  And I’m thankful for that.

Happy Holidays.

My Wife Left Me For Another City

Flying White Dots “A Day Of Madness”
(hover over icon & press play)

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Sunday marked the first of many dark days in my small and sorely swollen Digi heart.  My wife of six years, Mo-lissa, left techno for house, Detroit for Chicago… its a sad sad thing.  Twice I’ve left her home to fend for herself while I traveled the country and now I know the despair she must have felt being left behind while I searched for bigger and better things.

My Dear Molissa – you sounded so alone and empty on the phone a few moments ago.  Whenever you are pained, I want you to look up into the sky and remember that it is the same sky I’m dancing under.  And when you’re home, you can listen to our favorite tunes (click to listen to our playlist)… and roll around on the kitchen floor just as if I were there.

Dear Chicago – please dont mind this wandering gal.  All I ask of you is to be kind, throw some monkeys her way… and never… I mean NEVER… stop her from buying “big”.

We will be together again.

Your loving wife,

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All donations to the Digi Foundation will now go towards sending me to Chicago.
Please donate now… DONATE OFTEN!!!

put the fire under your ass, young america!!

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“I don’t know the issues”
“I don’t know the candidates”
“I don’t think I’m registered”
“I don’t have the time”

digi says:

Don’t be a hypocrite!

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PHASE 1: REGISTER!!

Praise the internet – you can now register online! VOTE FOR CHANGE will set you up with your registration forms – all you need to do is provide information like your ID number, name, age, and address and it hooks you up with the proper form in PDF format. All that is left is to print it out and mail it in by OCTOBER 6th!

PHASE 2: TUNE IN!

This is not the time to be too cool or lazy not to vote. If you are having trouble knowing the issues, I have found a quick “quiz” that will give you an idea who supports your causes -SELECTSMART.COM. (after you fill in your quiz, it will bring you to an ad, click the link at the top of the page to get your results… you might be surprised!).

Dont get me wrong, I’m not telling you to base your vote entirely on what a webpage tells you, go out and do some homework yourself… you honestly cant be too busy to watch a half hour of CNN, read the paper, visit official candidate websites, or if you’re really hard up, watch some rallys on YouTube (no reading involved).

I can tell you from experience that Obama’s speeches have been quite moving.

PHASE 3: VOTE!

Get your ass out there and do some good (don’t forget to bring your friends – they will be needed for PHASE 4)! November 4th is the day… clear your schedule or make some time… and if you cant make it VOTE ABSENTEE!! if you don’t know where to go, you can find a POLLING LOCATION by clicking that little link I so nicely left you.

PHASE 4: PARTY!

You’ve just taken a serious step towards maturity, adulthood and responsibility… now take your grown ass out to a nice dinner or swanky bar (I prefer a hole-in-the-wall) and celebrate your candidate. Please don’t forget to bring a designated driver.

Pat yourself on the back. You’ve officially done something meaningful.

The Obama Tour (Classy Edition)

• “I’m writing this down because I once heard that when you’re getting older you’re liable to forget things and I’d sure be the most miserable woman in this world if I ever forgot what happened this summer.”

Gidget, the Little Girl with Big Ideas

I’m home, Michigan! I’m home! Kisses all around!

Dont get me wrong – travelling with the Obama monkeys was a blast… but you have to put an end to even a good thing from time to time. When I originally left, I was under the impression that I’d be hitting up a couple cities, make a ton of cash, and then strut my ass home. Negative-o. The money wasn’t quite there, the travelling was extensive and I barely made it home (from the other side of the country nonetheless). But am I smiling? Yes I am, buster!

The first rally we hit up was here in Michigan. I’m not a shy person and the sales came to me quite naturally… but the rain and cool weather kept the people from sales while they rushed for dry land. In Farmington, I got to know my tour-mates a little better. I already knew Dan and Kaycee from earlier this summer, Joe Cool is Joe F’in Cool, but Dave and Bob were newbies in my eyes.

Bob, a carnie for over 25 years, is one of those guys who talks A LOT. Even though I attribute this trait to loneliness, I still find the man as amazinly peeving. He reminded me of one of those spurs on a cactus that would get stuck in your finger and you could never get it out. They are just small enough to where you cant see it to retrieve it, but everytime you accidentally brush across it, a sharp pain shoots up your arm. I think the indians called them “Bob Thorns”.

His younger carnie-counterpart, Dave, was someone I could see myself hanging out with on a semi-regular basis. He drove the large van with Joe and I (when he could keep his eyes open) and often talked about his girlfriend back at home. Ah… young love… how blind. I nothing more to say about this boy other than the fact that I want to express that he is one “classy” dredded fella.

After Michigan, we drove straight to Virgina. Tell you what, its easy to take landscape for granted when you live in an area that is mainly flat. There is something about watching mountains approach you from a distance that does something to you. I couldn’t see much at night, but the view in the morning was spectacular. We finally stopped at a roadside rest area in Lebanon, VA where we baby wiped ourselves off, brushed our teeth and changed for the rally. This was my first time to really interact with the Obama-goers. People often stopped to chat with me about Obama and my travels. Most of the time, I was honest and told them that I really knew nothing about either campaign – that usually got a smile and sometimes a sale out of them.

After the second rally, we packed up and headed back north to Ohio to grab more buttons, build boards and figure out our plan of attack. We usually didn’t know where we were traveling to next until the night before… but when word came, we went running. New Hampshire was our next spot. Hours and hours in the van in a bit tedious but we were able to pull over on average once an hour so the momma-bear of the bunch could pee. The first rally was a bust and we were asked to leave the college campus because of permit reasons, but the next spot in New Hampshire went quite well. This rally was outdoors and I was able to hear the Senator and, at times, understand what he was saying.

We had a few days off after NH, so we decided to drive to New York City to blow off some steam. Joe and I were excited beyond belief to hit the big apple and show them how the good ol’ midwest does it but by the time we drove all that way, we were tired and I was incredibly cranky (go figure). We stayed at the famous Hotel Pennsylvania which is directly across from Penn Station and Madison Square Gardens… conveniently located just blocks from Times Square. The room wasn’t exactly how I expected from the way Dan led us to believe – they were stale and under-decorated with closets inside of closets – and the hallways reminded me of something right out of the Shining… lined with meat locker shaped doors. The city itself was a bit disappointing – too touristy, vendor-fabulous… and it was too hard to distinguish the ladies from the working girls. We had a bit more fun the next day in SoHo shopping around and graffiti watching. We stopped in Strawberry Fields at Central Park where the group (excluding me) smoked a bowl with its mayor and talked about John Lennon and the memorial he keeps up every day. That evening, we got the message and knew we were off to VEGAS!

Vegas – if you’ve seen it once, you’ve seen it a million times. I really hope you dont take all this as negativity, but this is how I see it. Tourists, tourists, tourists! Everything in the damn place is geared for the “ooh’s and ah’s,” all cookie cutter… and pumped with the most kitschy and annoying design you could ever experience. Is it beautiful? Yes. Will I go there again? Yes.

Next on the map was Albequerque, New Mexico. I was fired at this stop for responding to a question with a firm “yep”. Thats right… saying “yep” to the wrong person will get you pink-slipped. While my friends were running around in the scorching heat making loads of money, I purchased myself a notebook where I collected the names and addresses of the people who bought our buttons and informed them that the company was lying about their campaign contribution. After I settled down and stopped the hating, I entered the rally and shot a bunch of pictures around the mission. Dont get me wrong, I’m not saying I’m dropping my hatred for “STWE”, I’m just saying that I dont know exactly how I’m going to procede. I’ll keep you posted. That evening we stayed in Santa Fe. Joe and I went out for drinks and actually caught ourselves “politic’in” with the locals. Perhaps we were just drunk… but we felt a bit like changed adults at that moment. We laughed when we realized exactly what we were doing.

From there the trip was over for Joe and I. We dropped the hippies off at the airport, returned one of the rentals, and took the 10 hour drive back to Vegas to fly home. Those two days alone with Joe and the road were my favorite by far. We did things our way… saw the things we wanted to see… and talked mad shit about those we didn’t. I had the time of my life the past two weeks… but I’d never join that troupe again.

Quotes From The Road

in reference to spilling coffee on Obama buttons : “Man – thats black on black crime!”

“If you think this button is racist, you’re racist!”

“How are they going to know you were there – its Alcoholics ANONYMOUS!”

“I don’t know if I’d go out with any girl who would go out with me.”

“Thats not like a nice boob… its a biker boob!”

“Is Barack Obama gonna have to choke a bitch?!”

“Not only do we like to drink — we like to get drunk!”

“I wasn’t into that shit until I could smell it.”

“Connecti-cut a ho!”

“Don’t tell me she aint got no cell phone – she be trippin!”

“I like to drink on heroine. I think its classy.”

“Vote Obama, Nigga!”

“Fuck – I’m a lady! I be bombing your city with rainbows and moonbeams!”

“This is like TURBO nature.”

“On my picnic I brought an astronaut, a baboon, a coochie, a daisy, an esophagus, a feather, a guerilla, a harpsichord, an igloo, a jugallo, ketamine, a lortab, mescaline, a ninja, an optometrist, a polyp (malignant), a quahog, a racist, a slut, a watermelon, the x-men, you and a zip-chord.”

“Gonna be one hell of a picnic!”

Word.

Digi Goes Guerilla On Tour With Obama

I’m leaving tomorrow to follow the Obama clan – state to state – on a short tour. I’m going to be travelling with a group of crazy hippies through the land… slangin’ our wares to anyone and everyone. I wont have internet access while I’m on the road, but I’ll have notebooks on me to catch any glimmer of creativity that may occur… or not… then I’ll just upload the scribblings of a drunken mind.

I’m meeting up with the clan early tomorrow morning here in Michigan for a democratic rally, then we’re packing up for Virginia… and then we’ll be heading to NYC – Ground Zero for Obama and McCain’s little get-together. I dont know if I’ll be able to hande it there that day… I am far too emotionally sensitive… well… I guess I can suck it up for the money.

Whatever states we’re hitting up after that is not yet known… those candidates like to be sneaky little sucklings.

See you when I get back!

An Ode To An Age Bracket

(drunkenly scribbled in the composition book that sits on my iron coffee table)

Part One : written in the 18-25 age bracket

7.30.08

“Spent a night slanging digitals with the best of them.  Walked in my own door, stripped off all my clothes and washed my week-old dishes to a slice of moonlight that peeped though my shutters… I inhaled the last puff and shook my shit to the grooviest jam that bootleg player had in it and realized…   I’m Home.”

Part Two : written in the 26-34 age bracket

08.06.08

“Home?!  How is it home when it’ll all be gone in two weeks.  And what is a home when all you can do i s bask in your loneliness and yearn for the type of love where closed-mouthed kisses cease to exist — something that makes every minute away too painful to bear, yet joyous because for every breath you take brings you that much closer to sucking the lips off their face.  Look at me – not through me. Find me as your beauty – your “adore.”

I’ve realized that one cannot survive on
double A’s and a wicked imagination alone.

When I reach my next age bracket, I can promise you this – I’ll still be washing dishes in the nude, I’ll still be dancing in dark – but I will not be alone.  I’ll be home…”

…nothing says it better than this…

Hurt Too Many Too Many Times

"oooh Doctor Love. I am so sick!"

-The Reverend / Alabama 3

 

As much as I try to rid myself of "him", my soul stands stubborn. Time and time again I've attempted to let him slip my mind, but as soon as another pulls near, my heart runs back to what it can't have. I escape because I'm ill prepared. I escape because I am a fraud to love.

I'm tortured and cursed because of its involuntary nature – and hope that one day I can find and accept it's cure.

09.02.08

 

palindrome has yet to take effect

 

Digi’s Guide to Tour Life

taken in a Denver bathroom

So I hear that you’re interested in throwing away your professional life and joining the troupe for some in-your-face, jet-setting tour experiences. I’m sure you have questions as to what this once-in-a-lifetime adventure has in store for you, so I’ve decided to break it down a little for all the eager beavers out there.

Welcome to::

Digi’s Guide To Tour Life

Part 1: Getting There Is The First Step

Hometown got you down? Feel like your going nowhere? Cant find a job?Want to see the country? Of course you do! Why not quit your job, leave school (and financial responsibilities) and join the happiest tour on earth!First thing you need to do is find your favorite pub where you should get yourself sickeningly shit faced. Make sure to pathetically bitch to everyone around you about how much you hate your life. Like clockwork, one of our trusted representatives will sit next to you, buy you a drink and inform you of all the great times to be had and money to be made on the road. You will then talk yourself into dropping everything you have, go home, throw up a bit (or overeat in some cases), kiss your mother goodbye and take off on your great adventure. Good luck, fool!

Part 2: The Fashionable Traveler

No fashionistas out here, yo! You have to pack everything you need for 9 months in two suitcases (not exceeding 50lbs) and one carry-on bag.Impossible, you say?! Not quite. Just make sure you pack three shitty outfits to wear for load-ins and outs… and a few for going out. Its really all you need. Don’t go overboard on your shoes, either. Four light pairs should cut it… and flip flops are a great to drunkenly bounce around the hotels in.Included in that 100 total pounds will also be your toiletries. Don’t bring a hair dryer, but please don’t forget your deodorant.

A laptop and MP3 players are a MUST!! I shouldn’t have to go into further detail about that.

Part 3: Relationships

Back Home:: Get ready to say goodbye! Every relationship you’ve built over the years is now in serious jeopardy. You can try to convince yourself time and time again that you will keep in touch with everyone back home on a fairly regular basis… but that’s not going to happen, my friend! You’re going to get so caught up in all this new-found fun and independence that you will barely have the chance or have the slightest interest to call back home to hear about the same drama and all the bullshit… and more importantly, you DON’T want to hear how some of the people back there are actually making something of themselves. You’re selfish now. Don’t feel guilty… everyone out here is truly an asshole in one way or another.

On The Road:: You’re about to live with 150 fun and exciting people from all over the world. Most of them will take a few weeks to warm up to the “new guy”, while others will desperately follow you around like a lost puppy. Don’t feel like its your fault, kids are a bit cliquey out here. First thing you should do – find the biggest person you can (preferably an operator) and punch them square in their nose and then ask them to borrow money for your bank. This will establish you as a tough guy and the others will know not to fuck with you and a few will even take you in with open arms.

Maintaining relationships with the opposite sex (or same, in some cases) are almost impossible. It may be tempting to sleep with a lot of people out here, but remember, everyone tries to sleep with everyone… yucky. You’re going to see a lot of broken hearts, betrayal and prostitutes around campus… pay no mind. Be like Digi – alone and miserable. It’ll grow character!!

Part 4: Living Arrangements

Congratulations – you’re now living rent free (almost)… but that doesn’t mean you’ll be slumming it. You will be paired up with another emotionally lost tour kid who will be your roommate in some of the finest hotels in the country. Although each hotel is different, they are usually conveniently located in a downtown area, have a gift shop where you can buy smokes and postcards, have bars and restaurants, refrigerators and microwaves, shuttle services or are close to public transportation, room service (sometimes free made-to-order breakfasts)… and don’t forget, someone from their lovely staff will come in daily to clean up your filthy messes, collect your beer bottles, fluff your pillows and make your bed. Golden.

Please keep in mind, they will charge you for nail polish and blood stained carpets.

Part 5: Financial Independence

Bills? Sure… you’ll still have to take care of your extravagant cell phone payments, but electric and gas bills are a thing of the past! Now you can work and everything you make goes straight into your pocket. If you know what you’re doing out here, you’ll be making anywhere from $800-$2,000 a week… CASH! Don’t forget to put some aside for taxes, though… or you’ll find yourself in a bit of a pickle come tax time.

Just like back home, you will still have to take care of your own groceries, liquor, laundry, and hooker expenses.

Part 6: On-The-Road Party Guru

In a new city and don’t know what to do? I’ve found that it helps to write an incredibly witty ad in the local Craigslist personal sections and see who you can find to take you out. It’ll save you money on drinks and transportation in most cases. If you are too shy to go that route, ask the concierge or look in the paper for local happenings. I found that a cell phone with GPS capability is handy for finding bars and concert halls… good investment.

Part 7: Transportation

You will be traveling city to city, state to state on either a charter bus or business class flight. A van will usually take you from your hotel to the arena, or, if close enough, your sore and tired ass will be walking yourself to the arena… rain or shine.

In your free time, you are completely responsible for your transportation.Personally, I love city transport in all its glory – trains, cabs, busses, peddle cabs, water taxi, etc. You’re going to meet some interesting folks and learn a lot about this cool new town you’re privileged enough to be staying in…. and if you’re really lucky, you might find a bus driver in Long Beach who will take you for a ride in “Stealth Mode”.

So there’s the basics, kids. If you have any other questions or concerns, feel free to ask.

See you all in May!

Spokane Craigslist Post

Weird Broad Visits Spokane On Business. News @ 11. – w4m

Why hello there. First off, I would like to let you all know that I don’t plan on being six feet under for at least another twenty years, so please don’t kill me… it would be much appreciated. Besides, I haven’t written my will as of yet, and I’d hate for my pug puppy to be handed off to some jerk-off who will feed him cheap food and dress him up. We cant have that… now can we?

Ok… so now that all the molesters have closed the window or gone to another ad, I’ll let you know a bit a little about myself. I was born a healthy child in 1982. I was an honor student and a pretty bad-ass badminton player. I lost a leg in a severe Segway accident back in the summer of ‘01. I still enjoy dancing… or, “thumping” in my case… and make it a point to get loaded at least once a week.

I’m looking for someone to show me whats good about this little town. I’ve walked through the park… been to Boo Radleys… but haven’t done much else. I have some good stories… I’d love to share them and listen to yours as well.

Please dont think you’re going to get me into bed. If you think rug burns are bad, you should see what a little friction against The Beast (which is what they call my wooden leg) will do to you. Not a pretty site, sailor.

So if you love drunken amputees, I’m the chick for you. Hit me up… I’ll be here for another week and a half. Check out my myspace page… myspace.com/digitalvixon

Word.

That one was a lot of fun until an actual amputee with a love for pugs started writing me.  Perhaps I’ll use that one again…

the BEAST

I was picked up by two gentleman callers who responded to this ad.  The first adventurous man drove up to my hotel in a large SUV with two kayaks firmly strapped on top.  We started off with some drinks at the Zombie Room and he later threw me over the wall of the Nishinomiya Japanese Garden (thats not technically B&E, is it?) and later on, we tried getting into a church after hours… BEST LINE EVER – “where do you think Jesus hides his spare key??”… boy, I miss you UG!!

The second gentleman was a scientist.  We met at a cafe near my hotel on chilly afternoon and drank coffee while discussing the power of James Earl Jones’ voice.  Did you know he narrated the Bible on Audiotape??

Orrin and Ug are forever my Washington buddies.  I thank them for showing me such an amazing time!  And also for not killing me.

A Very Conoco Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving barely seems like a holiday when you are alone and thousands of miles from your family.  The hotel offered an amazing feast for $40 which included ::

Relish Platter
Marinated & Grilled Veggies
Crab and Spinach Dip w/Flat Bread
Salami Coronets
Belgium Endive w/Smoked Salmon

Soups & Salads
Forest Mushroom Soup
Acorn Squash Bisque w/Chevre & Rosemary Crostini
Butter Lettuce Salad w/Candies Pecans, Gorgonzola and Vinegarette

Choice of Entree
Maple & Sage Roasted Turkey
(w/apricot & apple stuffing, garlice chive mashed potatoes, fresh cranberry sauce, turkey gravy, whipped sweet potatoes, green bean saute w/sweet onions and red chili sauce)
Roast Prime Rib of Beef Au Jus
(w/fried onions, garlive chive mashed potatoes, and green bean saute)
Bone-In Berkshire Sirloin End Chop
(w/port wine apple onion confit served w/sage spratzle, whipped sweet potatoes, brussel sprouts w/crisp fried onions)
Pan Roasted Salmon Fillet
(w/oregano butter and grilled meyer lemons, buttered fingerling potatoes, green bean saute)

Desert Table
Pumpkin Pie w/Whipped Cream
Pumpkin Cheesecake w/Orange Creme Anglaise
Deep Dish Apple Pie w/Bourbon Cream
Chocolate Fountain w/Fresh Fruit, Sponge Cake, and other Sweets
Assorted Mini Pastries

$4 BOTTOMLESS Champaigne

Tell you what… the sound of that menu made my mouth water.  But being the broke asses we were, Nate, Cesar and I celebrated with a meal including Philly Steaks, nachos, hot dogs and Sun Chips that we picked up at the local gas station.  $13 went a long way… and boy is my wallet thankful for that.

Mad props goes out to Conoco gas station.  You were a Thanksgiving lifesaver!

I hope your holiday was filled with friends and loved ones, laughs and hugs.  Take care of yourselves.

… now lets see whats up with that bottomless champagne.

PS  I decided to post a Craislist ad… you can view it here.

Sex Cells

Riverfront Park.  Great Place to Chill.

As the crew of able-travelling Disneyers headed to Vancouver, Rachel Spangler and I shacked up in our own room for the night, ready to go our own ways – Rachel to Colorado, Digi to Spokane.

I was unable to join the team into Canada for two obvious reasons 1) no passport, and 2) I’m “me”.  I’ve stressed since the beginning of tour as to how I was going to find shelter for my week off.  Being the little web-savvy chica that I am, I went straight to Craigslist where I found a Mr. Bill Frederick who was renting 1 bedroom dublex close to downtown Spokane with a fireplace, hot tub, high speed internet, kitchen, and laundry for… get this… $25 a day!!  My own apartment?! Live like an adult again?! Do as I please???!!  Better bet I jumped on that faster than a drunken cheerleader on a frozen hotdog.

Rachel and I woke early to go our separate ways.  I was so excited to leave the hotel that I accidentally left my breakfast sandwich in the lobby microwave to jump in the first cab that pulled up.  Yeah… so excited to start my new adventure that I actually forgot about food!

On the way to the Greyhound station, I took in my final sites of the city while texting Billy (B2De) on my brand new Helio Ocean.  I tipped teh cabby and reached for my device as he pulled away to message Billy when I realized that my gateway to the world was GONE!!  Panic hit.  All my contacts, addresses, photos and videos from the past three weeks were gone… not to mention the contact number for the duplex.  I payed a random $5 to use her Blackberry to call the cab company.  After a few minutes and a few tears, they called back to inform me that my phone was not in the cab.  BULLSHIT!!  Reluctantly, and a bit scared, I boarded the bus and headed to the other side of the state.

I left at 9:15am and arrived @ E. Broad Street around 5pm.  I was greeted by two elderly muts and moments later an even older Mr. Fredericks.  He seemed like a pretty easy-going and friendly character on the phone, but my idea of him changed after I entered the “duplex”.  This was no duplex… I learned quite quickly that the house I was to live in for a week was a kind of sex den.  ((honestly… you cant make this shit up))

I realized this as he gave me the “tour”.  Sure… there was a hot tub and fireplace in the livingroom… there was even a bar… but this was no apartment at all… just a few bedrooms with locks on them… and canvas wardrobes everywhere.  I noticed womens clothing in them but paid no mind to them at first thinking that perhaps his wife had passed and he was storing her old attire.

I felt a bit uncomfortable and disappointed that I wasn’t renting a separate apartment and told him that I was going to pass and look for other arrangements.  He was a bit furious with me claiming that he turned down other offers because I confirmed to stay the week… so I paid him for the week, brought my luggage up, locked the door and began to settle in for my ONE night.

I found it quite odd that he had wardrobes in my room and even a stack of plastic sheets on the table… then I noticed the camera lights and stands in the corner… so I decided to play Digi Drew and snoop around a bit.  The books on the shelves were all soft-core and upon further inspection into the wardrobes, I canceled out the fact that the clothes were his passed wife’s… unless, of course, she were a cos-play hooker in her late teens/early 20s.  The wardrobes had post-it labels indicating the contents by color and size – petite to XL.  Inside were nighties, nurses costumes and a whole series of bleached burlap  dresses with holes in the chest… and that was just one of them!  These rolling closets were all over teh house.  Being the good Digi Drew that I am… I photographed the evidence.

Now amazingly uncomfortable, I ran downstairs to request time online to write my mother to inform her of my dire situation.  The man hovered over me while I typed, so I wrote her that I was safe and all was well.  I felt quite the opposite.  As I typed, I noticed about 15 printouts on the table beside me with very graphic personal ads with photos of young naked women.  Yucky!  Who the fuck is this guy!?  He allowed me to do some laundry which was awesome, but when I wasn’t around, he threw his man panties into my wash!  My KMart briefs were dancing around with his silk BVDs!!

Needless to say, i never used the bathroom that night or the next morning because I was afraid this man had the house wired with cameras.  You can all breathe now… the man did not molester me.

I called a cab and rushed out as soon as I could and headed downtown where a few of my friends were staying.

For the past hour, I have been sitting in the hotel restaurant, racking my brain about what I am going to do about my current situation (no phone, little cash, nowhere to stay, not familiar with city).  I’ve been listening in on a depressing conversation between an uncle and his family about splitting up his estate and scattering his ashes.  He’s come to terms with his passing… good for him… looks a bit like Orville Reddenbacher though.

It’s 9pm now and I have yet to find a reasonably priced place to sleep as of yet.  Wish me luck.

CLICK MORE TO VIEW PHOTOS FROM SEX DEN!!

Flight 460

Remember that fear always lurks behind perfectionism. Confronting your fears and allowing yourself the right to be human can, paradoxically, make you a far happier and more productive person.
        -Dr. David M. Burns

• Not being understood
• Stagnance
• Forever living a lie
• Spreading my mother's ashes
• Never finding true love / being unloved
• Unfaithful lovers
• Harm to friends and family
• Always feeling like this

(so heavy)

“The bottom line is that (a) people are never perfect, but love can be, (b) that is the one and only way that the mediocre and vile can be transformed, and (c) doing that makes it that. We waste time looking for the perfect lover, instead of creating the perfect love.”

-Tom Robbins (one of my favorite authors)

In most instances, the only things I ever have to say about him are negative. I've hurt for so long, and I've dwelled on it enough for me to think my hatred is pure. Sham. Sham. Sham. Try to act tough, Dana… don't let the other's know. Fooled myself for a while…

Relationships will not work for me any time soon. Lord knows I've gotten excited with the thought of new faces, places and ideas… but they are all cut short and hearts were broken. As much as I've hoped and prayed to be over this mess, I just cant seem to get him out of my mind. We've been “apart” forever, but seeing him for even just those moments it seemed like we were never apart. Same routine, same laughs… same mannerisms. I just cant stop loving him.

Its torture. The worst torture. I think about him constantly and he's haunting my dreams. Perhaps I sit alone too often. Perhaps subconsciously I think I deserve this kind of punishment. Me? A Masochist?

I understand that we both need to move on (he's doing far better than I am) but I do still need him in my life. He promised me that he's always be there. It just seems that when I need to hear his voice the most, he avoids. “Moving on”… fuck… its a part of life. Why do I think I deserve any special treatment??? Dammit. He's my best friend. When he left it seemed like the greater part of myself left along with him. I wouldn't feel as alone if I would just be acknowledged every once and a while.

Sure, I could do better… but I don't think anyone could make me feel as whole. Even at our worst, I knew my other half would always be a room away… I don't think I could ever find that again… and if I did, it still wouldn't be “him”.

I'm working so hard to make my life better and with every major decision I want to turn to him for his input. He's never there. Why do I fight so hard for his acceptance? I need to get over the fact that I'm wasn't good enough for him. I failed him and I failed as a person. He would have stayed if it were otherwise. I wish I could just give up.

I shouldn't still have to cry about this but the emptiness is depressing.

MySpace Muslim/Holocaust Bulletins

I've been seeing a lot of people posting bulletins entitled “Fuck the Muslims” and so on…

What I'd like for you to remember is that most the shit you read through these bulletins are just bullshit propaganda started by some illiterate/uneducated asshole with far too much time on their hands..

Do not blame an entire culture for what ONE history department has done!

Just please start checking your facts before you spread more ignorance and hate across the net.

Here's the TRUTH!!

I'm NOT supporting the terrorists, the Muslims, the Catholics, the Jews, or the West Coast Coalition of Circus Clowns (WC4) – I'M SUPPORTING THE TRUTH!

I'm just stating the fact that titles such as “fuck Muslims” “death to Allah” and shit like that are just completely inappropriate! And I'm sick of seeing things spread across the net that aren't entirely true.

Shit – perhaps a more appropriate title for that garbage would be “FUCK THE UK!!” because from what the bulletin states, it was them and not the Muslims taking the history of the Holocaust out of the books.

Its sad that I feel I must further clarify that I, personally, am not saying “Fuck the UK” because I know I'll get even more hate mail. Read between the lines and maybe a bit further outside the box!

I'd almost rather read another bulletin about puppies, angels, or how horny Dan Rather makes you.

In Conclusion ::

1. Again, I am not supporting the Muslims or the fact that they don’t believe in the Holocaust. I wish you all would read further into my argument.
2. The first amendment may grant you freedom of speech and religion – but it does not support the spread of lies and half-truths. Remember – when you assume, it makes an “ass” out of “u” and “me”.
3. By posting such things, it perpetuates the same kind of hate that STARTED THE HOLOCAUST!!
4. Don’t be that person. Please.

Thanks again.
Dana

the new

My goal was to come to MySpace and LiveJournal and post entries about all my journeys out here on tour. But now that I've come across a computer, I've finally realized that I cant sit here anymore and attempt to glamorize the person I thought I would become. Perhaps my feelings are a bit immature.

I never really explained my reasons for joining the Disney On Ice tour. As much as I hate to admit it, I joined because I was running scared. I screwed up every good opportunity I had to make myself good because of my — fuck, i cant even come up with a decent adjective – desire to become something great. Thing is, I am a loser. After all the chances I was given in life… I'm still sitting here hating the fact that I've pissed them all away. I was hoping that I would find myself again here on the road… learn to get past all the hatred I have grown upon myself… to be me again. But now that I'm into my third week here on tour… its not the homesickness that gets to me… its the realization that this was just my “easy way out”. As great as the times I've had here, I still wake up every day looking in the mirror and despising the person I have let myself become.

I purposely shut myself out from anything that can be positive in my life because I have a horrible fear of committing to any of it. I dont trust my own mind and its scaring the hell out of me. I know I'm nothing to brag about… but I have this tendency to talk about my past like I was still that person. It just hurts so badly when I come to realize that I am no longer that girl… the one everyone respected… now I'm the one they all pity for.

The only time I feel alive is when I'm dancing. That is the only time I feel like a woman… respected and beautiful. I've always taken pride in the way I move. I dance alone. There is no bumping and grinding… just a spiritual movement between myself and the beat. Tonight was the first time I've felt that in what seems like an eternity. I felt so beautiful. I just love the way my body feels… to slide and touch… I could do it for hours. That is me. Sure – I am scared and all alone… but I do have that one genuine thing left in me.

Looking in the mirror is the hardest thing. I've done myself so wrong. Things that can never be reversed. One day I'll have to come to terms… but I'm not mentally capable of it just yet. I guess I'll just follow everyone else's creed and just say “be who you be”. ((wait, that might just be a southern thing))

I feel horrible about the people I've left behind. I cant help but feel guilty for leaving them behind. I have to do this though. Its good for me. I just hope they can understand why I left the way I did. There wasn't much for me to give up there. I need to make good… no matter what the trials.

I keep thinking about how I should have stayed in college and how much I have disappointed my family. I had such a good thing going, but I blew it all away to be the “girl about town”. I'm selfish… almost dirty. I honestly dont deserve to know the majority of you.

Wish me luck out here… maybe I'll come back halfway sane.

Goodbye Port Huron – Hello Hotels, Busses, Planes, and Smelly Cabbies

In roughly one hour, I will be unplugging my external hard drive, winding cords, and closing my laptop for the final time in the 48059 zip code.  I’ve given up on searching for a future here in the Port Huron area and decided to take a chance on tour with Disney On Ice.  I will be traveling week to week, city to city, one large and unruly arena to another… selling goodies to even more unruly children and their aggravated parents.  I’m pretty excited, but my nerves have made me quite nauseous today.  I’ve been having minor panic attacks on and off and I’ve been taking breaks from packing all day.

I know I haven’t had the chance to say goodbye to everyone, but I’ll let you know that you’ll all be missed (in one way or another).  I want to thank all my friends who came out Friday evening to wish me a warm goodbye… well, perhaps it was the alcohol that made it feel warm… but it was a “goodbye” either way.

If I have anything of yours, you’re screwed until I get home in May because I’m stepping onto a Greyhound bus headed for Cleveland early tomorrow morning.  Sorry.

Take care guys.  I’ll try to keep you updated on all my future adventures via MySpace, LiveJournal and YouTube.

xoxoxo
Dana

pinstripes and coors light

pic taken outside Underground Atlanta

“The summer is here at last
The sky is overcast
And no one brings a rose for Emily

She watches her flowers grow
While lovers come and go
To give each other roses from her tree
But not a rose for Emily…

Emily, can’t you see
There’s nothing you can do?
There’s loving everywhere
But none for you…

Her roses are fading now
She keeps her pride somehow
That’s all she has protecting her from pain

And as the years go by
She will grow old and die
The roses in her garden fade away
Not one left for her grave
Not a rose for Emily…”

—Zombies “A Rose For Emily”

Hey Look… Its Me….

The events of the past three weeks have led up to me fleeing Michigan for a nicer and more comfortable climate. I left last Monday morning for Atlanta, Georgia. Once again stress, lack of a physical relationship and family have pushed me over the line.

As much as I believed leaving the state would help me overcome my hardships… or at least numb the pain for a short period of time, I’ve actually stressed myself a bit further. The heat and humidity made me a bit ill, I missed my dog, and I had a panic attack in the aquarium. I’m not sure if it was the thousands of children pushing me around, the lighting, or the hangover… but at one time I was about to shout “GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME” at the top of my voice. I don’t think that would have gone over too well with the counselors and soccer moms. Is anxiety going to by my new thing? I sure hope not.

I was able to meet a few really great people, and a few others that made me feel sorry for the people waiting for them back at home. Its disgusting the lives that some of these businessmen lead. I stayed in the beautiful Embassy Suites where there is a free breakfast and managers reception (fancy way of saying free drinks) every day. The hotel is filled with nothing but pharmaceutical reps, stock brokers, and raw rubber tycoons. Almost every one of them had a ring on their finger and stories about the amazing lives and families they left back at home… yet after the third of fourth drink, they were all a little too eager to share their stories of sexual exploration while on the road… a few of which actually propositioned me to join in on such adventures.

Its not all the men, either. Women are almost just as disgusting, if not more. I witnessed a few get trashy drunk and even make up stories about how they were going to get divorced. I’ve come to the conclusion tha women are much easier to pick up in a hotel bar than broads in the sleaziest of clubs. They are a different kind of “lonely”… and once you mix alcohol in to the equation, even the most modest of women drop a few morals.

So is it really not cheating if you’re in a different zip code?

I’m on the plane now on the way back into Detroit. All I miss there is my dog. Luckily, I’m turning right back around and leaving for Chicago after the NIN concert. Like I said, the farther I am from where I was, the better.

I want to be a “team” again. Too bad I’m always being picked last.

((Update)) On a happier note, my big sister finally reached my family. I talked to her for the very first time on the phone last night. She is lovely. We’re planning a reunion soon!

“Effin” madness

sometimes I think I drink too much for my own good

-Dana Braun

At the close of my evening, I actually took the time to diligently type this entry on my cell phone and mail to myself so I would be able to post it today. What was I thinking???

“At what point do you realize that the money you put in the jukebox will never match the worth of the harmonies that you want to achieve in real life. There are times that you’ll hear something too beautiful that your only choice would be to take it for granted. At this very point, I am sensing the difference between fiction and non. The touch of the right chord and the correct verse – its made me alive. Even for this moment… this moment in time… here – after wine and cocktails – HERE I AM. Music – fuck you for saying it doesn’t do it. I am more alive with each coming line and every awaited sound. Give me a friend and an acoustic, and there I am.

Sometimes I have to wonder… are you that girl on the second story loving life for all that it is… or are you just another soul… another breath … that has yet to be discovered. who are you to really be worthy of what you have just witnessed. why is it that the lost ones … have that chance… that “one moment” to find the person deep inside that might just be… fucking real. why do you shut it away. god help all of us. when will we finally have our chance to fly? what keeps us so locked up inside ourselves… when we know that somewhere… deep inside…we were born with wings so powerful that would put most to their knees. i believe that at one time we will overcome and finally learn that we are worthy of a love that only the best of childhood stories might be allowed to tell. i think that at one time we will all be “happily ever after.”

… and this, children, is why people should not be allowed to type on a QWERTY keyboard at three in the morning while barely being able to spell “sober”. Insert aspirin… now.
Thank you. Thank you.

No pictures please.

VIDEO – Doctor Tran

elephant eyelash

“when we’re on different sides of the globe
i thought we’d keep our veins tangled
like a pair of mic cables,
and if there ain’t enough slack to reach
that we’d solder them together
and across oceans they’d stretch.
our faces reflected in seperate windshields
and all our body hair pricked up
an elephant eyelash.
should we be tempted by thief or by saint
it seems i leave you and you stay
to crowd the cage and curse.
but don’t regret the done dirt,
there is no life plan set,
you just swallow the cold
and follow your breath until death
now even if the will to sleep persists
i can’t, ’cause a harsh cloth grazes my blisters.

…

today i fell asleep in a bath of hair.
hair that once sprouted from my own
white wet chalk follicles.
i swallow a coal
and follow my breath
and i did it with the grapefruit soap
thinking of you.
bathed, shaved, and oiled,
your legs are two skinny dolphins swimming
between the mattress and the layers of bedding
turning in your drug dry sleep.
when i ask you to kiss my pulse
you offer to start the shower.
i want a verb and you give me a noun.
what do you dream up while i tongue you down.”

-Excerpts from : Why? “Gemini (Birthday Song)”

Here I go again… another idea, another chance to fail. No men. No men at all. I need to start doing things for me… not them. I’m the one that deserves to smile for a change. I’m going to be something by the end of the summer months. I hope to hell that I get back on my feet because I fear that I am getting too old to bounce back the way I really want to… and the longer I wait, the deeper the hole is dug.

Interesting conversation and interesting times the past few days. Its refreshing to find some intelligence… a chance to look outside the freakin’ box. Inside I jump for joy, but I’m still holding things back. When will I be outside the box? Perhaps I’ll just macramé my box with pictures of pin-ups and puppies to make my stay a bit more comfortable.

Today I blew my first dandelion and made a wish… the same wish I’ve made for years every time I look up at the sky and pick out a star. Its actually funny to think that each time I wish, its the same damn thing… and for some reason, I feel that these personal traditions might actually effect me one day if I believe in it enough. Well, I know its never going to happen… but every time I do wish (even in the most childish manner) it makes me smile. “Hope” is what keeps me going.

VIDEO – Stupid Pot Smoker
this one’s for you, Gusto

i’m not worthless you know…

ap·pre·ci·a·tion
n.

1. Recognition of the quality, value, significance, or magnitude of people and things.
2. A judgment or opinion, especially a favorable one.
3. An expression of gratitude.
4. Awareness or delicate perception, especially of aesthetic qualities or values.
5. A rise in value or price, especially over time.

Time after time I’ve done favors for people without blinking or asking for anything in return. In fact, I almost enjoy it… a little too much. Its such a heartbreaking pain when you’ve bent over backwards for one person in particular over and over and over again and the only thing you get in return is a kick in the face.

Its not particularly the money I want – or even need – right now… perhaps what is angering me so much at this point in time is that I am not getting the recognition I believe my kind acts deserve. How dare someone tell you how much they love you and cry by your side and then turn around the next minute and make you feel like your feelings are of lesser value than a street bike. When did I become so unimportant?? Perhaps I always was. I hate to be a bitch about the entire situation, but at this point, I feel that my kindness and my love has been taken for granted… yet again. I’ll never learn.

You really know how to make me feel loved. Congratulations on passing your test… too bad you’re failing at life.

VIDEO – Jesus the Musical

looking around…

All this time I've complained about how people dont take me seriously and how I cant be loved the way I need to be… always blaming the other person. At what fucking time was I going to look in the mirror and realize that its me that is unattractive and fucked up? When was I finally going to kick myself in the ass and realize that the real problem is me. Who in the right mind would EVER want to engage in any type of relationship with a girl this screwed… this disillusioned. All this time I've thought that (for the most part) I was wanted… that I was a desirable person.

Ha! I now realize the joke I have become. I dont blame anyone anymore. In fact, I applaud you all for putting up with me for this long. I appreciate your sympathy/humor… just next time, tell me. Let me fucking know that I'm a fuck up. Let me know I'm not worth what I thought. Tell me that I am not “that girl”. Let me know my faults… even though I claimed to have known them all.

This kick in the face was more than I ever expected. I've expected that it would one day come, but I never thought that it would hurt this fucking badly. For once I saw something positive in my life… something that I was beginning to accept to be different and actually (for fuck's sake – about time) good for me. Too bad I'm just not good enough. Guess I deserve some reality once in a while… I guess now I just have to realize that the mirror will never talk back.

Merry D’Ster….

Originally Aired April 16, 2006

Thumbs-Up Jesus by Dana Braun (food coloring on egg shell)

When I die, I want the day to be remembered as D’Ster. This holiday will be much greater that Easter, because it will be the celebration of the end of the great continuous hangover of the century.

Instead of chocolate chicken fetus, the masses will enjoy D’Ster baskets full of Jack Daniels, menthol cigarettes, coupons for free car washes, 9Volt batteries, and something poisonous for the kiddies.

Oh – and screw your usual egg hunt! All the small children will be gathered into a large group, blindfolded, and chased around by rabid, half naked circus midgets (you can insert a miget into any situation and make it funny)… last one standing wins… a kick in the face.

Have a happy holiday!!

everyone must fight the battle… just hopefully not alone

I hate that you don't know what you are capable of and that you underestimate your worth.
-My Mother 04.11.06

How does it feel to be looked at as a “hero” to people? I'll tell you, its scary. I dont know if I should be sorry for them or even sorrier for myself for not being able to live up to their expectations. Perhaps I should be sorry for not allowing myself to open up and show who I really am or how I truly feel inside… but then again, its just me running scared yet again.

I guess I am afraid of pity. In all truth, I dont deserve pity. I've dug my own grave more times than I'd like to count. I just with that one day I will have the strength to start filling them in… but hope really doesn't seem to be taking care of it. All I have right now is hope. Hope that one day I'll truly be happy in life, in love, and with myself.

Isn't pity somehow connected with this journal? I come here from time to time and read back over my entries. I scrutinize everything about myself in the past few years – the pain, the triumphs… not sure if I do it just to torture myself or just to remind myself who I was and when. I guess honesty is as good as I can get… and it seems that I am more real in these pages than I have ever been.

You want honesty? Sure, you'd think so… but the truth is something I dont even want to acknowledge most of the time. Thing is, I'm an over-emotional person. Over the past few years, I've found that I cry more often… I think it is almost unhealthy the way my emotions rollercoaster. I can be sitting alone or in a room of people completely content, and the next thing I know, I'm bawling my eyes out. I cant think of anything that would trigger the sadness, but it just comes.

I'm so unhappy with where I'm at and who I have become that I've shut myself away from as much reality as I possibly can. I live in a fantasy land… honestly, fantasies are all I try to know. You want the truth, eh? Here you go. I talk to myself. I talk to myself all the time. People always ask me why I pace so much. I walk around my house for hours imagining my life the way I would like it. Mini scenarios – people, events… I imagine the things that would make me happy… a first touch, a first meeting, dancing (yeah, I even imagine myself dancing)… I live out all the best in my head… sometimes I even fool myself into thinking they are real. Nothing more than delusions, I think. But I can do this for hours. I look in the mirror over 50 times a day. Its not in any way for vanity, but I stare into my eyes and wish… ask myself why… sometimes I think I'm crazy.

((twice during the writing of the last paragraph, I stood up to pace))

Funny thing is… I dont think anyone cares. But in the same way, I keep reminding myself that I am not their problem. Its just sometimes I wish someone would act like they really gave a damn about how the real Dana is… not Digi… Dana. I dont think anyone could ever help me, but to know someone is there for me would mean the world. Guess it all stems back to the man I love(d)… loved with all my heart and soul… he never once asked me how I felt… not at any time… like he didn't care about the important parts of me. I was just there… guess I made it that way… always accessible… until I gave up… I gave up but never let go.

Fuck.

Truth. I'm lonely and amazingly scared. I'm not who you think I am… I'm more. I would kill at times to be held… to have someone say they cared and mean it… to find the thing that I love… to become “me”.

Sidenote – new appreciation for Cowboys and Cubans.

knit hats for all… heartbreak for one.

Sometimes you just have to lay certain things down to rest, say your peace, and let them go. I just wish I was more able to do so. I hold on to hope so tightly that I exhaust myself over and over again trying to pick of the pieces. I've always ran back to what I felt was safe and walked away shortly after knowing that the haven has changed. I dont think its my fault… besides my apparent weaknesses. I just pray that I dont allow myself to get used to being treated like I'm second best… like there's someone always waiting in the wing… someone who I am always being judged against. I know that deep inside I am a good person, a caring person, a loving person. I think that I should be good enough… just me.

I cant except being lied to. I just dont deserve it. I am a catch. I'm more than a catch. I know that all sounds really vain, but I know how to love. Thing is, I just dont think that the person I have found to love me back shares that capacity. “Love” is not a word you throw around, especially to me. I know that I overreact a lot. I've said a lot of things out of anger, but when you hurt so badly, sometimes you cant help the things that roll off your tongue.

I deserve love, truth, compassion, fun and games. It would be so much better if I could find someone that genuinely deserves those things in return, but in the same manner, thanks god that he has captured the heart of a woman named Dana.

What I really, really wish is for the deserving man to be the one person I would ever ask that from. I'll save my pennies for another well.

Go ahead and say it. You told me so.

toast and sideways smiles…

In what concerns you much, do not think that you have companions: know that you are alone in the world.

Henry David Thoreau (1817 – 1862)

Its sad when the only comfort you get out of life is when your dog is the only one to look you in the eye like everything will be ok.

I am surrounded by many people… people that always act so pleased to be around me. But what I am looking for are true companions. Friends may come and go, but what I need is stability. I want someone that actually cares to ask me how I’m feeling and actually care enough to listen. I’ve put on a lot of acts over the years, a lot that I am ashamed of, but what I’m searching for now is truth in my life. I want to do better by me and the people I love, and the ones I hope love me back.

I’m really scared of where I’m at in my life. Ever since I was little, I had dreams of great accomplishment. By the way I was going, no one would have ever doubted me. But now I feel so lost, and I think that everyone is seeing through all my fronts. I am… I’m scared. I had far too much going for me a few years back and I let it all slip through my fingers. I think I have ignored my gifts for so long that it would be near impossible to get them back. People used to be proud of me and now I feel like no more than an embarrassment that they are forced to put up with out of duty.

My mind is slipping. My memory has been fading – short and long term. My heart, my weight, my emotions… I’m afraid of what the future holds for my health.

God. I’ve had so many chances to make good of my life, but I’m still here. This rut is killing me. I would give life and limb for the inspiration to find the girl I’ve tucked deep inside, break her free, and take over the world… my way.

dead movie star who would give anything to live like a queen…

“I’ve always considered writing the most hateful kind of work. I suspect it’s a bit like fucking, which is only fun for amateurs. Old whores don’t do much giggling.”
– Hunter S. Thompson

I came home yesterday from a six day fieldtrip. Sometimes I just dont like to be home… I just run away. I think the only reason I returned was because I missed my dog… and he acted like he didn’t know me when I walked in the door. I dont understand what I am constantly running from. I have a fear of commitment to everything – school, jobs, relationships, hair colors. Last night I had a dream that I was a camel in a school play and my only line was “Two Humps For All!!” … and everyone cheered.

For years I used to think that I had hundreds of friends, but with age I am realizing that the majority of those people are just aquaintances and leaches. I have a handful of people that I would actually consider my “friends”… the kind of people that hug me and say “I love you” every time we part. The kind of people that aren’t afraid to dress up as the HULKSTER.