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I am a Los Angeles-based twentysomething. I have a profession, and I have a secret life in music, and this blog isn't about any of that. I like Blogger because I can't read what you're thinking.

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Tuesday, March 23   >>



The more office-y and shark-y I get, the faster I run to my piano when I get home. I'm desperate for that balance. I'm aware that I've become very grating in a business sense--in a way that manages to make money--but I don't want to lose that curiosity and innocence that makes me feel super crazy creative.

Like, when I make up words like "taintlicker" and allude to POTUS as a pimp.

I kick babies for fun?

...In their gums?


I had a bizarre dream last night. Preface: I was a weird kid who always thought it was cool to relate to adults. In the third grade we had a "Favorite Person in the World" project where we had to write a one-page essay about our, yes, favorite person in the world. We also had to include a drawing.

Some kids picked their dad. Some picked a Power Ranger. Others picked Cory, from Boy Meets World.

I picked Bill Clinton.

Don't ask me why. My parents weren't politically preachy. Hell, I didn't even know what he did. I think it may have been the saxophone that won me over. That, or his ability to throatfuck.


Anyway, I got an "E" (which is the 3rd grade equivalent of an "A+++.")

A year later, in a related project, I picked Tim Allen (I still have an autographed picture from him when I sent him my project; I doubt he gave a fuck or that he even signed my picture, but, man, you have to admit, that is one badass fucking dude R-R-R-R-R-ARGH!)

In the 6th grade, I picked David Letterman.

David Letterman paved the way to my interest in show business. I never missed his show, no matter how many times I got grounded for staying up late. That man is funny. That man is a nerd. That man has cool suits. That man makes a living throwing watermelons off of high rises. I loved David Letterman.

Still do, actually. But I haven't watched his program in months, so it struck me weird that I had a dream with him last night. It went a little something like this; and a-one and a-two and a-...

I was at a diner in upstate NY and I see him in a booth. Alone.
HUGO: Hey.

DAVE: What.

HUGO: You eating alone? I can sit with you.

DAVE: ...Sure.

HUGO: Sooo wha--


HUGO: Iono.

DAVE: Me neither.
And for the rest of my dream, we just ate.

I think I have a fascination of meeting my heroes and hoping they're all normal. Like, I hope to one day just hang out with Tina Fey and find her masturbati--WAITWHAAAA?????