Sing Me to Sleep

It's amazing what six solid hours of sleep can do for one's mental and emotional stability (i.e. I feel much better, thank you.) God bless warm milk and Patrick McGoohan.


I'm soothing, yet painfully arousing.

I'm not hating on the Toronto Fringe Festival anymore. I mean, I'm fairly certain they weren't conspiring against my happiness. Also, it's not as though the lottery were based on the artistic merit of the submitted plays. It was the luck of the damned draw, that's all. I need to learn to not take things so personally.

Anyway, the good news is I can now use the $600+ I would've spent on my play to buy myself super awesome shit! Like a digital camera! And knee-high bitch boots! Or food and shelter! Nee haw.

(Now playing: "Forget All About It", Nazz)

Addendum: I've recently installed a statistics counter on my blog so I can see who reads it and where they're from. What's interesting (aside from the international hits stemming from such google searches as "lesbian mothers nude photos" and "I'm so lonely, I have no money") is how many hits I've been getting from Toronto media. People from The Globe and Mail, The Toronto Star and City TV have been reading and re-reading the bee's knees (probably a bi-product of the Torontoist/Killers fiasco.) What I would like to say to you, Toronto media, is this: if you find me endlessly fascinating, hire me! I'm awesome and I'm qualified and I'm all yours, come this spring! You know how to get in touch...