I love this sort of thing. Makes me feel like I'm 12 years old again.



It's been a few years since I went to the Fremont Solstice Parade (not Fremont in the Bay Area, but Fremont just north of Seattle proper.) I wanna go again -- it was such a wild day that blended into a nice beautiful evening by the water.



My babykins remains da cute, no matter where I take her.

I saw Patrick Wolf play this past Monday. It was a lot of fun -- in a club, full of sparkly lights and dance floor. His band consisted of a violinist, stand up bass player, drummer, a guy with a Macbook and some equipment to make strange noises, and finally Patrick himself, sometimes playing piano, sometimes fiddle, sometimes a bari uke. I loved what they played. He flung himself about the stage and gave us quite a show, as I think this video clip hints at.



In some ways, it was kinda disturbingly reminiscent of Britney Spears posing in a schoolgirl outfit. Just for a different crowd.

I've been gritting my teeth at the monk-begun uprising in Burma. A whole lot of battling emotions for me. I hope they get what they want and what people deserve: freedom and self-determination.



I will now repost things from other people's journals:



Last moments of that photo journalist



It's useful to set protest songs to a tune everyone knows how to sing:

Allan needs advice on selecting a brush cutter.



Allan needs to show his boss that his astronomy forecasts are actually being used



Especially since Allan needs a stay at home wife.



How to prepare trainees to address ALLaN needs?



ALLAN - needs 720 votes 4 DUNDEE WEST



Allan was admitted to uc Irvine Medical Center because they have a "good reputation" with liver transplants - and that's what Allan needs



Allan needs ______. I want to ______ Allan.



allan needs some kisses from you, he fell down the stairs



Allan needs to do more to convince his readers that they shoud not take Hermione's misogyny at face value.

There's an orange light coming in my window, from the morning sun. It reminds me of sunlight through smoke.



It's mostly dry bramble now, but the bougainvillea bush that rises up the fence to my second-story window still peeks in with a few orange bursts.



I'm thinking about orange pants. If you don't have an occasion to wear such pants, maybe your life needs a change.



I'm thinking about wet, green, winding Makawao and Haiku, from ages five to eighteen. It was endless -- endless! Not tiny. And it glowed.