I’m writing my autobiography for a class. Its due on Tuesday…which means first draft is to be completed tonight and the final draft is to be completed by tomorrow night so that on tuesday it can be printed out and I can complete all the other fits and fancies I have for school. My head is in two places so I can’t write at home. I’m torn between the emotional connection needed to watch and enjoy a movie and the emotional outpouring it takes to write about oneself. Fuck I need to stop taking naps. I just fall asleep. I am going to go to starbucks for the next two hours and write until its complete. It should be easy…I’ve already gotten the material its just a matter of writing it down. Life. Its mysteriously beautiful material for the great american novel. We went out to a barbecue and dancing last night and it was fun. The Shoe Star, a bar with three different djs that played funk and soul that I’ve never heard before. Very much like the instrumentals behind Jesus Christ Super Star or Austin Powers hip chic parities. We danced straight out of Laugh in and the 1960s. Fucking great. I got a new DVD player today becaue mines broke beyond repair…its not worth repairing. And bought two books: The Nanny Diaries and The Bergdorf blondes. I’m just checking out the format to be able to steal when I write about our great adventures in Los Angeles. This is the way life is supposed to be lived, experiences and sleep. They can be tough to get through but they are amazing. Or, sans hyperbole, fun.