Spilled champagne in the trunk of my car last week. Ponygirl venture. It smelled really bad for a day, champagne rotting in the heat, but it went away on its own. Good thing too. The last thing I want to do right now is clean out my trunk.

For all my pissing and moaning I'm so much happier this year than I was last year. What's the difference? I could say it's Ray. I still think about how much he hurt me but at least he's not still doing it. I don't have to wonder why he won't just call me back like a human or let it ruin my birthday if he forgets. But it's more than that. I could say it's making music again, finding my voice in that sense, but that's still (always) such an uncertain thing. Maybe because I'm finally going to real college in September. It's everything. Things aren't perfect but they're so much better than when I came home last year. I was kind of a mess. I wanted to go back in time, I think, and spending a year walking in my own old shoes was more than enough to convince me not to do that again. So many bad decisions. Must move forward, not back.

Went to the saloon last night. Wasn't drunk enough to enjoy the new "ambiance". So many tight pants. Unfortunate mullet. Spectacular stache. Hard to believe how many people came out to party on a monday. In north county. Lots of dirty guys. I like that. Lately I just want to flirt with dudes and then disappear from their lives forever, to be remembered in a wistful, hungover haze. "That girl who said she reads the thesaurus on the crapper, was she real or just a dream?"

Irrational fears: I have some.

I'm dancing in a piece next month in Balboa Park and I have to fall up. I kind of dive into the group with a little arabesque and they lift me up and I ride around in the air and then they put me down. The first time it was cool because I just closed my eyes and I tried not to cry or pee myself but the second time I totally fucked up. I opened my eyes. I'm gonna have to work on that. I don't want to look super miserable on stage. When Gina does it she looks completely blissful and I want to feel that way but it makes me really anxious. The theme of the piece is allegedly "longing" so I guess the lifts are supposed reaching out for whatever it is that I'm longing for and I should probably not look like I'm having an anxiety attack.

A couple months ago I got vertigo cleaning the back shelves at work and Silverballs had to help me down. I think I just need to trust more that they've got me and it'll feel better. I need to get used to it. Ray used to pick me up and I liked it because I knew or "knew" or whatever that he loved me or anyway that being dropped by him wasn't within the realm of possibility. When he had me, it didn't bother me at all. I was nothing and it was easy to lift me up. I want it to feel like that. It scares me and I want to do it again. It feels almost as good as making bad decisions and I love me some of that.

Speaking of bad decisions, I saw Wolf Parade at Canes on Sunday. Not that that was a bad decision, just that those are a few of my favorite things: Wolf Parade and bad decisions. I was so close to the Krug I couldn't believe it. He definitely sweated on me. His music has been really important to me. The last few years have been kind of shitty/lonely and his music has made me feel less lonely in a way that I don't think a real person that I actually know could do. Wow, that sounded really gay. We're dropping a ponygirl video on it soon because if we had to battle to write about the show that shit would get gnarly brutal. We don't want to do that to our pretty little faces. But I guess it's cool if I let some really homosexual things out here, in the interest of not being a total ass in the video.

I don't know if maybe I'm just projecting or what, but I feel like the emotional landscape of those songs is like looking in a god damn mirror. Bad decisions, impossibilities, infidelities, snippets of conversation and the shape of your hands. Thwarted desires. Maybe it's just being human. Even "I'll Believe in Anything", a song that seems so optimistic and romantic has the underlying tension of impossibility. It's all in his delivery. Listen to "Three Colors" and ask yourself if you think the person he's talking to gives a fuck about the wind in his window. That show made me want to write music again. The energy was incredible. Been doodling with my guitar. See what happens.