Wise Men Know Well Enough What Monsters

Hot tub night, last night:

My backyard ain't so bad (over the fence is the frontside of the mountain- you can see the headlights of a snowcat on the right side of the photo):

This is what I woke up to this morning, one of the leads at work:

Bruises from trying to hitch hike home the other night:

One of the supervisor's at work drawing a smilie face on a race-rat's helmet.

The Wailers from the deck at the snooby private party:

The Wailers:

People's eyes get funny when they're fucked up. They turn darker, their faces change... it's like you can see the devil in all of us come out to play.

A cheesy reference, but exactly like in True Blood. Black, fucked-up eyes.

The way he holds me, I love it. You wouldn't know how funny he is, just meeting him. Hilarious kid. Beautiful boy- long and tall and dark, with hair like all those ancient greek kings. Really good snowboarder. Sweeter than you'd believe. He kisses all my bruises and scrapes away.

"You and Stuart make me really happy," she says. "I think he really, really likes you."

They're all beautiful, all different & the same all at once. From a hundred beautiful places I'll probably never get to see. Ohio. Virginia. New York State. Connecticut. Missouri. Minnesota. Michigan. Buenos Aries. Argentina. Brazil. Costa Rica. South Africa.

Still stoned from the wake & bake this morning, listening to Red Hot Chili Pepper's Stadium Arcadium (Mars Side). I just feel so good.