hello, how is everyone?

oh me oh my. i am in good ole huntersville once again, and i'm bored outta my mind.

I'm becoming an adult. Shit.

I am tired of how fragile nineteen years of age feels.

 NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/11/arts/music/11hayes.html?ref=obituaries


http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/10/arts/television/10mac.html?ref=obituaries


just. why? shit almighty.

I WANT TO SCR
EAM SO LOUD
LY RIGHT NOW.

There's nothing better than The Roots live. Nothing.

I've been sitting around listening to them all morning and I remembered the concert they had with O.A.R. at Davidson College and it was the best concert I've experienced. They'd just gotten this new touring guitarist named Capt. Kirk Douglas who was this mixture of bob dylan and saul williams; I've never drooled so much in my entire life. Jamila went with me. We danced and danced and danced and afterwards we went and got coffee at summit ( i think) ...

i want that day back.

OH THANK GOD.

Someone please explain to me when placing a simple fucking phone call to a person became a major event?!

I'm at a loss since I am not very experienced with this whole "Hey-call-me-tomorrow" nonsense. Especially since I didn't. oops. Why can't snail mail be convenient anymore? And carrier pigeons? Those means of communication hold more weight than the telephone!!!! Right?! RIGHT?! Christ.

Other than my telephone call issues, I went jog-walking again today. Second time this week and I'm noticing how quickly my hips have perked up. By that, I mean I'm usually not very aware of them when I don't do much physical activity, but when I do whoa nelly I feel like Shakira. <-- (Overstatement?) Taking care of myself and giving a damn about being aesthetically pleasing to myself feels good and, dare I say, sexy. I feel sexier. Something I've never carved out time or space in my head to do in all my years of relishing in my unkempt glory.

But I'm keeping my hair... I think that my hair provides a balance between my newfound vanity and my ever-present ambivalence towards appearing clean.

My phone keeps staring at me.

I woke up at 7:45 today, and haven't gone back to sleep since. It's quite lovely, actually, watching a day mature from a cool, humidity-free morning into a sunny day with a warm, breezy disposition. Absolutely beautiful.

Although I haven't written little else than livejournal entries, I'm surprisingly calm and somewhat at ease with my laziness. Ginger's fine, too. She's taken to reclining on the stairs, staring outside of the windows... She watched me bake a bread pudding with a cherry coulis. I'm trying to channel my inner martha stewart. Maybe i should channeling my inner martha graham (she's fucking in there somewhere, i just know it) and schedule and appointment with the physical therapist for my knees. i'll address that later, i guess. but it's peaceful, just baking and cooking and listening to good music.

I finally watched Volver for the first time, and i'm in love with Almodovar all over again. I need to watch everything he's ever had his little la mancha hands in. for his next project, i want him to do one hundred years of solitude... i think i could just die happy if that ever happened.

there is winston-salem with aaron on friday for independence day. and i'm itching to see Ro, just fucking beside myself.

i found this interview with james baldwin:

like i said, Obsessed.