The purpose of this blog: mainly to keep my mind off of the creepy brown spider crawling down the wall that is facing me . . . the wall that is in my bedroom . . . where I sleep. I hate spiders. They freak me out. Why? No idea. They've never hurt me. It's just something to do with their eight little legs and the way they meticulously move them. As much as I hate them, you'd think that I would take advantage of each opportunity given to kill them, but I don't. For fear of them jumping on me or taking revenge later (if my murder attempt happens to fail), I try to ignore them--pretend they're not there, that I never saw them. Twice in the last month, I've walked into the bathroom to find one hanging from the ceiling, suspended at eye level--like he was waiting to jump on my face. I hate them. And yes, I realize hate is a strong word.
In other news . . . I attended a poetry reading tonight. At my new favorite coffee shop, they host a poetry reading every Monday night. Last week's was good--for the most part. This week's . . . well, it was okay . . . a few good readers. I was more intrigued with a few things that occurred during the reading: a yoga instructor demonstrating some difficult poses and a random old man nonchalantly telling about the times he used to party with the guys from The Doors at UCLA. Weird but entertaining. I can't figure out if this makes me want to go every week or stay home on Monday nights.
Ben Harper still has not approved me to be his friend on my space. But I'm not bitter. Really. Despite his denial of our friendship, I'm still listening to his new CD, which is fabulous.
That's all for now.
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