And before that...

So, I decided to become a high-powered prostitute in Los Angeles, what do you think? Do you think I have what it takes?

I'm moving there next Friday, saying goodbye to the crickets, and secadas and moisture, and the smell of life and living things in the air that I've grown accustomed to here on the east coast, and also all my family and most of my friends, and my apartment that I love, though of course not my cat.

I'm not what one could call a fan of Los Angeles per se. I had planned to move out to CA when i was done with AOL, but I was thinking more of San Diego or some nowhere town. I've liked LA the, what, three times I've been there, but the first two I was younger than twelve and mostly captivated by the fact that I could see the fireworks at Disneyland every night from the comfort of the pool in my Aunt Ahiki and late Uncle Tien Ming ("Uncle has many moneys," he reminded us on our trip through the toy store)'s back yard. The third I was enjoying the effects of some fantastically smooth aspirin I'd smuggled back from Holland. None of those occassions are useful data to me in this decision, probably.

I'll tell you what though, the very real possibility of being given the opportunity to suck some famous fancy director's cock to the tune of $1000 is useful data indeed. So San Diego in a few years gives way to Los Angeles in two weeks, no question.

Come visit me out there, we'll go get high colonics or breast implants or something, it'll be a gas.

Anyway, yeah, right now I'm out of my mind with the packing and the planning and all that, plus a few jangled nerves wondering if I really have the tongue technique to make it in the highly competitive LA sex trade.

I found out I was definitely going Friday night, which was fortunate cause it gave me a chance to say goodbyes while i was in philly for adam's wedding, which was delightful. It also gave me the chance to bask in some seriously beautiful East Coast weather and scenery. Mars has some pics up on her daily, and then also there's this of me and mars' parents' dog jenny fighting over a stick (I saw it first) when I spent some time with them Sunday (after, of course, spending some time with my own parents too, who keep getting cuter), this of me and becky passed out at the hands of many Yuengling (Uncle has many Yuengling) after the reception, and this and this of me losing my shit over the idea that I'm not going to be 2.5 hours away from Mars' beautiful philadelphia home with the leaded glass windows, and its most important contents, those being Mars, of whom, and I don't know if you knew this, I'm pretty fucking fond.

It's a little hard for me.

But then, so are those fantastic powerful directors' cocks. So Mars understands, she's real supportive that way.