Going to sit behind the wheel
Going to drive along the road
Oh, how happy I will feel

I just received a voicemail from Ms. Ida Sly, letting me know that she is standing on the steps of the state capitol building in Boise, Idaho. Marble #4 is quietly resting in the wood of the bell. She will be all right. She will follow the crumbs and find her way home.

Got to talk to D.D. last night, as Eli calls him. (It stands for Tasty Poison Cake. Or maybe it doesn’t.) He knew I was having a shitty time, so he called to check in. He is one of the few people I know who has never (that I know of) done anything to hurt me. He is one of those people that pops up when I least expect it - which, often, is also when I need him most. He was the first one to call me in my new place last year after my life had fallen apart. And somehow - mostly by accident, I figure - he consistently manages to tell me what I need to hear. (Not what I want to hear.) I can tell him things - like the real reason I sent him those pictures - and he’ll appreciate it in the spirit it’s given. He calls me on things that nobody else dares to - and unlike a certain other person who occasionally tries to because he likes to think he’s got me figured, D.D. actually knows what he’s talking about. I’ve got enough history with him that he’s experienced my whole crazy progression - and because of that, I find his opinions on me far more interesting than most. He also says he doesn’t ever read my blog. I occasionally wonder if he tells me that so I’ll feel more free to post stuff like this. We’ll see.

Talked to Nate for awhile - after our piercing debacle last year, I had to tell him about my amazing stretching experience. He laughed far more than I thought he would, and decided that I am officially a “total S’n’M freak” and that for Christmas he is going to get me - and I quote - “a spiked dildo or something.” Next time, I’ll have to call Sarah first. I’m willing to bet she’ll know what I’m talking about - and at most, will only laugh at me a little. Oh, and for the record - this is the famous Robert, who has now had his hands on my piercings six times. (Yeah, I know.)

I think I may have found a new hairstylist. Now, up to about a year ago, I’d never gone to the same one more than once. I didn’t like having them talk to me and found that going to a different one each time lessened my chances of that happening. However, last fall I found Dayna and just loved her. Then, of course, she moved to New York. During my last appointment, she said “I think you should try Shirley. You’d love her, she’s crazy.” I didn’t even know who she was - but upon meeting her for the first time, I was impressed. Bizarre blue hair, tiny funky glasses, multiple piercings and tattoos, loud and boisterous, with a full mouth of gleaming junior-high-flashback braces. We talked about her current tattoo project - a huge fairy that covers her entire back - and about all the haircuts and hours of babysitting she’s had to barter in exchange for the gradual completion of this piece. We talked about my job. We talked about missing Dayna. I walked out of there a damn happy camper, and I think I just may have a new hairstylist girlfriend.

Finally got to talk to Kater Patater Skater Fellater, who was one of my best college girlfriends. She’s living in Portland with Todd (her boy) and LH, a guy who frankly defies description. She just got a new puppy. Her first voicemail to me was from “Tracy”, who worked for the “Porn Call of the Month Club” or some such thing. I really missed this girl, and am PSYCHED that she’s so close. One of these days, she’s coming to visit. Look out, Seattle. You’ve never been fellated with a potato quite like this.

Okay, time to go home. Good night, good night, my people, my public.
See you in the morning.