I feel divine. I've been listening to this album by The Books called "The Lemon of Pink". I played it for Dasha the other day and she asked how I could like such abstract music without harmonies and melodies and things like that. I didn't really know, but I do. It's not like I don't listen to that sort of stuff at all, in fact I listen to everything, it's just that different songs fit different moods. I'm sure you understand what I'm talking about. The time when you absolutely love a certain song even though all of your friends hate it and you listen to it secretly behind closed doors. Actually I'm sure nobody has done this, and that I am just leaning toward Buddhism. (By which I mean I'm about as crazy as that goddamn Teresa who I fell in love with three years ago.)

I've been thinking a lot lately - not about anything in particular, just about society and politics and things I didn't use to give a damn about. I only think about these things now because they will affect me when I'm old and raped of my GOALS and AMBITIONS and DREAMS. Like today for instance, I was standing behind the counter at work looking at these seven year-old girls looking at the fish tank wearing skirts about 12 inches above their knees. I didn't really know what to think about this, except I got pretty frustrated at how we are taught at such a young age to whore out our bodies so people will like us. I mean, when do we actually start CARING about what we look like? I think it's around the time we start losing our innocence.

I'm very sorry that this isn't really that cogent of an entry so far. I just don't know what to talk about, is all. I'll talk about the last couple of weeks I guess. Last Sunday I watched "The Day After Tomorrow" with my pal Lucas and Dasha. The movie was more decent than I thought it would be, but I think the Owen Hart jokes we made about death and so forth were what got me. Dasha was being cute and scared about the whole thing, which was nice. After the movie I was feeling "nice" so I quickly dropped off Lucas and parked about a block away from his house and hung out with Dasha for a little bit. Ha HA!

Monday was actually quite bland. I went over to Dasha's and watched pool on television for some reason. I don't really remember what happened afterwards, except that we went to get tapioca drinks and ended up playing pool at a local pool hall for an hour or so. I also remember Chinese kids talking in Mandarin and me knowing what the hell they were talking about.

Now Tuesday was really worth a damn. The afternoon was uneventful, but that night, GOD that NIGHT, was bliss. Dasha and I went ice skating with her friends which was quite honestly the nicest time I've had in a while. Everything was just amazing - the cheesy music in the background, Dasha's friends getting jealous of us holding hands and skating and being cute, me falling over because I'm a horrible skater, an old man who did spins, and Dasha lacing up my skates because I really didn't know how to. I remember there was this little girl who was skating in the middle of the rink that Dasha pointed out to me because she was cute. She was Asian and about four or so. I said that she could've been our daughter, and Dasha quickly named her Claire after the girl from Fahrenheit 451. I imagined a scene where I was skating, holding both Claire and Dasha's hands and I fell over, dragging Dasha down with me but not Claire. Claire, sad that she wasn't a part of this cute scenario, gave an adorable face and fell over on to Dasha just to be a part of it all. I really have no idea what purpose this story served other than to be fucking ADORABLE.

Wednesday, which was once again as uneventful as Wednesdays can be, consisted of Tea, a mushroom salad, picking up my sister from an ugly-hearted dance show, board games, teaching Dasha how to play checkers (apparently Russian people don't enjoy having fun), and bliss in my room for a couple of hours. I would get into the details, but Thursday is distracting me.

Thursday was a trip to San Francisco with Dasha. We visited artsy places like a Fine Arts Museum and Haight and Ashbury, but what really stood out was visiting Ocean Beach. Ocean Beach isn't really that great of a place to be honest. It's just a grassy hill that is either freezing or hot as hell - never in between. But whenever I'm there, lying on the grass, feeling the ocean breeze blow on my cheeks, I feel like I could be carried off to Africa and not give a damn. It's my favourite place in the city, and I've only taken there people there ever, including Dasha. We just sort of lied there, kissing and things like that, and felt as nice as a couple in San Francisco could. I wish you knew.

Friday was poker night. It really knocks me out - my father had a huge gambling problem when I was younger, and now I'm playing poker for money twice a week. I, of course, lost. Due to my temporary depression, I went outside and took three bong hits with a Jewish kid. I told Dasha this the next morning and she was upset. BUT WHY THE HELL WOULDN'T SHE BE?

Anyway, Saturday was pretty fun. I did nothing, except eat dinner at a diner with Blaise and Dave Molina, who was on my improv team last year. I didn't want to fucking go actually. I was called a pushover for giving in so easily to them. I don't care though, because I hadn't seen Blaise in forever, and I'm afraid he thinks I am ignoring him, which I slightly am due to me being a hermit crab. I'm losing my hair!!!!!!!!!!

Sunday afternoon I headed to work, feeling gloomy for some reason. Dasha and her friend Victoria stopped by, dropping off chocolates. I was feeling in love, so I asked my mother if I could leave, and she said yes. The Arts Fair we went to was quite boring, but it was nice to be with Dasha and Victoria all the same. There was this stone statue they pointed out to me that apparently looked like me while I was sleeping. I didn't know what the hell they were talking about since I've never seen myself sleeping, but I'm sure they were right. That night, my father got very upset with me and started yelling at me. He also returned the Father's Day card I got him. I could make this story as dramatic as it actually was, but I won't. I cried, and my mom calmed me down, giving him the apology letter I wrote but didn't mean a damn word of. I wanted to rip up his goddamn card and never talk to him again. Can you believe I didn't want to invite him to my wedding after this? I forgave him the next morning, but whenever he brings it up I feel like kicking him so he stops breathing. What's sad is I actually mean that right now.

The rest of the week up 'til now has been hazy, so I won't really go into it. A lot of kissing and giving "presents" to Dasha though. I forgot to mention that she's leaving for a month in about five days, and that I am wanting to spend every goddamn second with her before she leaves. I very recently started missing her dearly, even though she hasn't left yet, because we just discovered that we are in love with each other in the REAL sense. I don't know if either of us will be able to handle this next month without going crazy, but I'm sure we'll have to.

On a side note, if anyone sees me in the next few years, remind me that I want to be a writer, a photographer, a guitarist, a drummer, a stand up comic, an actor, a playwright, an English teacher, a music teacher, a business man, a great poker player, a pool hustler, and a better swimmer. Oh yeah, and a great father.

cya.

-george

Moday