numbers tell a story.
NUMBERS tell a story.
all music is beautiful
except for eurodance.
and the stuff that plays while you're typing at a gigantic corporately owned internet cafe.
I saw a lot of important works of art in person today at the National Gallery of Scotland. Really great stuff. Go crazy white men go.
One of the best stories I've heard in a while is why there's this really unhistorical painting of a little white terrier hanging in a passageway.
The dog's owner gave a lot of money on the condition that they take care of the dog after he died and that they always have the painting of his pooch on display.
And there it is, steps away from Titian, Van Gogh and Rembrandt. Fucked up shit.
There's something about traveling abroad and drinking that makes you make out with your friends.
“Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder.”
I'm much farther along in my studies, but I still haven't gotten anywhere with the performance anxieties. Or neurosis.
Let it go.
Subtract the need.
I'm ready to get out of diva house. Eight acting, dancing, singing girls sounds a lot better when you're not living with them.
w00t lnog psot.