Hmmmm....Bungalow Project in San Antonio was delighful. Except for the installation, when it was ungodly hot (sans a/c mind you). I started to hallucinate towards the end there. I think I saw god. And she looked a lot like Judd Nelson from the Breakfast Club. Her black mop was flowing in the breeze and she had a sour renegade smile that said, "I'm playing hookie and there ain't shit you can do bout it." She also had cankles, but hey, throne-sitting while a very deifying activity, isn't exactly cardio kick-boxing, you know what I mean?
My throat hurts.
I'm going to Nohegan this weekend, it should be fun and hot and fun and HOT. I'm going to bring a pashmina and wear it the whole time. Why? Because then I'll be the mysterious girl who is impervious to heat and wears a fucking pashmina. I'll be the Liz Taylor of Cabin C or whatever. I want to climb trees while I'm there. And maybe find a little bird friend who will awaken me with his sparrow song. Maybe I'll discover a troupe of squirrels that will do my bidding and form a small squirrel army. I will be commander in chief. And I will instruct them to nibble off the extraneous parts of my enemies. Watch your balls, boys, Ali's evil squirrel brigade is looking for loose skin. I think I have a fever and I should stop writing now.