(no subject)

No time to read LJ f-list, but in between my philly trip and the work trip this afternoon, a few notes. Notes about me. Mostly.

Dirty fucking hippies were generally nice, eccentric as you'd expect, with some hot chicks. And by hot, me being José, I mean "15 and gay." One had a shaved head and icky piercings, still hot; another was doffing suede fringes and had a really really nice hippie retro look going down to the feathers tied into her hair, teen (I'm going to call her gay just in case).

Philly made me thing of Toronto. Maybe DC does suck compared to everyplace else in the world.

I spent Sat wandering South street - wandered the entire length, getting coffee at Lava and sitting for a while with my brain (completely ignoring the really hot azn girl in the hip-long green sweater with jeans who had kicked off her slipper shoes and tucked her feet under herself in her padded chair, hardly noticed her at all, turning my back to her), then checked out every little shop on South street.
Minor note - our city paper is much better than their city paper. They had far less substance, far far more pages of "escort / massage" services.
The voodoo shop was a neat store but lousy browsing - there were two counters, black man at one black woman at the other - you asked for what you wanted (I guess you have to know).
The fairey store had a lot of neat things, nearly bought the frog-footed planter, wanted to buy the string-keychain-dolls, but couldn't think of who to get them for.
Saw the antique store I got Kitty's key in, but it wasn't clear if it was open.
Saw an entire wall of emily shirts from $8.50 - $10. Wish I could wear Emily shirts.
Got a $10 haircut that looks and was done like my old $35 haircuts. It might be worth a monthly trip to Philly just for the hair savings. Or not.
Not so much going on with punk clothes or stuff - hip-hop t-shirts were plentiful, as were kicks, and great posters and low prices if you really need another "Le Cat," cabaret classic, or "Absinthe" wall hanging.
Dig Ferret's sign is up, but the walls are papered.
Many types of freaks around. Pretty.

It occurs to me that I sort of live like a jock lawyer, but don't like jocks or lawyers, but really am attracted to the arty appearance, but don't do art or like dressing up fancy, and don't like dating with complete uncommitted sexual freedom, but greatly prefer trash talking bisexuals, and ... I dunno. You can't choose what you like, but I'm really feeling like my life and likes have pigeon-holed me terribly. Try. To. Keep. Mind. Open. Hope others do the same.

Oh, and don't focus so much on the negative. If you must, keep mouth closed. Even I don't like people that do nothing but mock, bully, or complain. Trying to emphasize one side of me over another isn't selling out or not "being me."

Trips make me reflect a lot - this is often a good thing.

I really want to go out and dance. Didn't see any indication of non-band club life, but couldn't have gone if I did.

Saw my Mom :)

But for now, I have my 1/2 priced dark chocolate covered fudge. Seriously, fudge, with a chocolate shell. Becuase you know how many times you were eating FUDGE and thinking "Gee, this fudge is really nice, but I think it needs more...candy. I'll bet a shell of dark chocolate would really make this a meal." Somebody, somebody who looks like every grandmother ever, heard you, and gave me this gift. Off I go.