[ remember, that these are the moments. ]

oOoooOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo11.10.2005

Chuckles tells me Vincent Gallo is selling off his sperm for a million a pop.

He then promptly suggested I investigate bottling my own mojo.

I'm sorry kids, this mojo is all my own.

Trust me, I have no idea how I do it.

I may be unlucky in life, but I seem to be pretty fucking lucky in like/love.

I'm spoiled.

I know it.

You know it.

I'm a girl who's managed to not be really wanting, not once, for almost 6 years now.

And I'm not an love addict (though I do enjoy the physical and intimate aspect.)

I can live without a boyfriend quite well.

Maybe that's the Catch-22, my friends.

Maybe only when you're okay with just being with yourself that someone falls into your lap.

(Like at a Halloween party when you're trashed and with all your favorite people and he who shall not be named is watching.)

I like him.

I really do.

And everyone seems to really dig him and us together, but I'm in no rush for anything.

It's been a little over a month and my feelings are still in disarray.

But, damn, it's really nice to have some light at the end of this long dark tunnel.

(Even if he does try and eat my remote when he's drunk.)

scribed; 11/10/2005 11:11:00 PM
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