My phone iS plugged in behind a mini fridge and I know there are many spelling errors below. Sorry.

I'm wishing I had my computer here. I haven't posted anything  in ages and now I'm in a bar in arcata California and it smells like shit. I'm glued to my iPhone because I've forgotten how much I hate the outside world. I've lost all survival mechanisimz for dealing with it after only having to deal with peole I like for the last 3 weeks. I have methods for I dealing with the 7 people on this tour and that's all I've been able to focus on. Hippies, college kids, crusties? No way. Emily, Elena and Laura, bring it on. 

Only, i dont know where they are. There are 4 bars in this town and they are all rigtht next to each other, but I've lost them. I only seem to want to get drunk in swanky bars lately and that's a far cry from here, so I picked the swankiest of the 4 Nd here I am. Blogging. I am what people talk about when the way that technology drive us from reality comes up  in conversation. "I was at this bar Nd it was so awesome And there wA this girl sitting there and she did t take her eyes off her iPhone the whole night. Oh, and she looked like a fat old lady."

That's the mood I'm suddenly in.

I haven't been running since I left. I've hardly doNe shit outside doing shows. I'd be totally happy with this if I didnt have examples of athletic ideals taking their clothes off everytime I turn Around. . 

Really clothes never stood a chance with them. Fabrics are made to disintegrate off such perfect bodies, so it was really just matter of time. And it was a matter of time until I started feeling totally aweful about my lack of clothing disintegration. I've always been uncomfortable naked and I've always been uncomfortable with my body, so how wonderful for both these issues to be poking me in the ee these days.

I don't understand how peole can just let all their floppy parts flop around. I prefer to be encAsed in layers of elastic and straps and performance Lyra/spandex blends. Naked in front of anyone for a second and I almost go internally deaf from my brain screaming "OH MY GOD! What are they thinking about my body!?!?"

Mental calipers size every photo ofe to the bodies around it. At home I measure every dimension of my body everyday. The slightest increase equals a meltdown. There is a tiny bit of leeway there, and I have no idea if I am withi ln those boundries and it's making me crazy.

To make matters words, here I am, sneaking up on Portland like a ninja in the night. I'm doing this to reclaim the one part of my life that I feel totally withdrawn from, bUt strangely victimized by. For the last week iv drempt about the place. Apartments and people and record stores And streets. I've been trying to open my mind to the flood gafes of memories boring up against the levy. When my apart
Ent got broken into. My bike got stolen. 3 times. Suicide attempts. Breakup. Lives i destoryed because of my bullshit feminist politics. Research. Learning trapeze. Light rail. Bad e. Mostly bad e. Not e the drug, e the destroyer.  

And playing music. My former life. I'd spend every penny onnew I struments. Organs. Banjos. RotAting leslies. Spend every second in basements. Inventing new tuning and awesome band names. Trying to organize a collective and painting the walls of new venues before the owners grAbbed the money and took off for Mexico. 

And my last memory of Portland. Coming back after being awY for 4 years or so. Having an akward dinner with bad e at his shitty yuppie new apartment then going to a club. Hitting it off with his best friend and finally seeing someone else who could see through his bullshit for the insecurity it was. Then being treated like utter shit. Possibly worse than the cmbination of all those years of being treated like utter shit. Just a few moments of total disregaurd for my wellbeing of happiness that synthasized everything. I stumbled with black eyes to my rental car without saying goodbye. I'd said that goodbye a million times before. Laying and hyperventilating in the front seat I called the one person I knew would never disregaurd me. He talked me through it. He put his feeling for me aside and made the most important thing my safety. Maybe it sucked for him to hear me so upset about such a dick, but I couldn't read that from his voice. He just tLkex me through the steps of getting out of the cAr, getting a cab, And  getting into bed. Alone. I knew I'd fou d a good one. 

I swore to myself I'd never ever speak to bad e again. Now I'm having dreams that he shows up at my show in portland And nils walks out to kick his ass. So do my 7 best friend. 

I should probably leave the safety of my iPhone and go find them.