Fall came straight out of left field and suddenly my feet and body are freezing. I'm clashing all different kinds of flannel in an attempt to stay warm. I've run out of hair ties and have my hair pinned back with an old paintbrush. The lights are somewhat low and Jon Brion's playing in the background. How romantic.

I'm imagining pumpkins and little christmas lights. Early nightfall. Cold, crisp winds, worthy of hot cider. Sidewalks covered in leaves.

The holidays always seem like they'll be wonderful. I always forget about the stresses of Christmas shopping and the great expectations of a jolly ole' time. My family's pretty small. I hope all goes well this year.

Andrew W.K. is playing a show this week at Largo with the Calder quartet. 25 dollars. Imagine how interesting it'll be to see his music with a classical edge. I kinda wish I could go, but I've got all different kinds of projects due in printmaking and sculpture the following week. Procrastinating.

I really need to expand my social horizons. Birthday party this weekend in Isla Vista. Perhaps I'll get lucky and stumble into someone who'll remember my name after 5 minutes, and carry a legitimately interesting conversation for more than 10. I so desperately want some mental interaction; some good-intentioned, old-fashioned sarcasm and dry humor. IV is probably one of the last places to look for that. Oi.

I really have no idea how to get a point across to the XY chromosome. Female tactics of silent treatment and sarcasm do not come across and get you absolutely nowhere. My game's all dusty and tired.

Currently in need of someone to spend the holidays with. End note.