07.

book was okay. not gweat. but an interesting one off read. beauty and the beast sort of motif w/ a little bit of commentary on the fashion of the 80s. of today. of forever. what i did take more note of though was the intro and ode that moore wrote to the initial director of the project, malcolm mclaren. talked him up something magical. definitely want to look into him. as well as the deaths of alexander mcqueen and gianni versace. the types of things that involve and include fashion and the stress of it. the real beauty of it; the bloody fingers. i don't [always, necessarily] want to SEE the pieces. just the inspiration and concept and work involved in it. i had a brief peek into it. peek? sat here for about, what, twenty, thirty minutes before i decided to suck the peacock's dick and show my colors a little bit. surprise (said the narcissist <fuck>), no one said anything and life didn't change. so while sitting in a turbulant flight from phoenix to vegas, a couple things happen. one, i'm sat next to a couple who actually speaks to each other. happily. and that rules. and also, i fall asleep for under the time it takes to finish a song and during that brief, briefest sleep, i dream that silas from weeds is banging my nonexistent mother... which then transitions calmly and serenely into two boots floating in a stream of water and someone begins to slip their feet into each boot while reciting life lessons that i never hear because i wake up from the feeling of my eyes rapidly moving as if in a seizure. whether that actually happens or not is a complete mystery to me entirely. maybe some read body shit went down. maybe not. but we're landing in vegas now, so we'll see if the lines are tolerable.