Rock n roll all day long. Or hip-hop rather, a quiet enjoyment of mine, because in all of it’s absurdity, listening to people rap slick poems is pretty entertaining. Sean gave me a comp which has everything from Nas, to Gza to Necro, to Tribe Called Quest to Talib Kweli, the Roots and Mos Def. Hip hop is like the antithesis of rock to me, because it has the ability to solidify and make you feel badass whereas rock usually sparks some super emotional key for me, as it is mostly a soundtrack kind of thing. Hip hop gives you a little jump in your step, a kick in your boots, it gives the spineless a spine (check thug nuggets for that) and has the ability to make a slick little tattooed girl feel like she can kick butt.

Today’s list (yeah I make lists now, hence my slick line of accomplishments) includes cleaning up my disasterous apartment which has been used and abused by a chain-smoking pothead Norwegian kid from upstairs and removing all evidence, smells ashtrays, cigarette butts from the pulsing lips of babyone, who took it upon himself to quit smoking the day after his birthday. Better him than me, but I never really pretended to be too addicted to cigarettes because for me, the dependence is in times of extreme strife, those being the times when it is hard to say no no to something that is a bizarre super extreme comfort food. Honestly, sometimes I rock a drag a day, sometimes none, and sometimes I will smoke one. For E’s sake, it’s time not to do that in front of him…and yeah, I do need to focus a bit more on being healthy, getting shit done, working on my body which comes from mental manipulation, theories of bio-feedback and the like,a and just taking care of business. So in the coming weeks to do lists include a colonic, and a glycolic, which is how I rock my superstar unwrinkled mug when I am closer to 30 than 18, and yoga classes somewhere which won’t rape my precarious and delicate financial situation. Ohhh and he and I are going for some slickish sexy coupled spa experience where we get simultaneously rubbed down, kneaded, salted, and thrown in an oven. When you come out you are like a freshy baked cake, smiley and squishy, and I am hoping that it works in calming both of our jilted stilty lives.

Oh the to do lists include the following: laptop, passport, ticket to Europe, establishing a lasting and permanent writing schedule, and sticking to it like an ant on honey. I don’t wanna work the full-time angle for sure, and I gotta do what is best for me right now in life. Locked in and down is not something deanna’s do very well, so it’s time to take advantage—

Oh and little Kisho, my Russian composer who compares me to PJ sent me this e-mail after yesterday’s shenanigans saying “hey kido
you know -> i know -> you’re PURE rocknroll CHICK and i want you to be in this project
bcs you’re REAL , but PITCH-PITCH-PITCH -> we must work on this shit all 100% -> help
me to help you -> PLSPLSPLS!!!!!!!!!!!!

hahaha. So it’s good to know I am wanted in that respect. Because I am real, because I don’t mess around, misrepresent or blow myself up bigger than I am. I might just do it, send it off and see, then we can see what little flowers get planted as a result. It’s not as if his music sucks, but I don’t feel shit I don’t write necessarily, and I want to feel what I perform. I can fake it, act it like any other rock star, but c’mon now…

Yeah so that’s my schizo fucking post of the day. Being that I have been hit with the badass bug, I am pretty confident in my battles lately. Gotta finish cleaning for E and cooking his slick little birthday dinner.