Motivation born out of a refusal to resolve to the everlasting panging lull of my room, I left for a boring cheese pizza dinner, and tossed $12 in the wind for a sex worker's art show, in a gamble to avoid innanity. It turned out to be spectacular. All of Olympia -- or at least a significant, vibrant portion -- was in attendance. There was stories of ex-tweakers, hilarious call-girl prankery, a fruit fetish, a pitch for legalized prostitution, and a strip dance to Anarchy In The U.K..

It was pretty great.



Oh yeah, some Bazooka-Joe philosopher scribbled on my door


Evan,
Today is the first day of the rest of your life.
Live it up.


Seriously. Shuttup? You vandalized my door for what?