I wish I was a Russian pop star

Я сошла с ума, я сошла с ума
Мне нужна она, мне нужна она
Я сошла с ума, я сошла с ума
Мне нужна она, мне нужна она

I love driving home and singing that loudly.
Turns out I've been translating that wrong too, because I'm bad with prefixes and vowels. Ah. Well it makes more sense now. I found an English language fan site to send all my friends to now, so that I can spread the love of Taty everywhere.

This afternoon I sliced my finger on a piece of broken glass, and it still aches. The speakers on the mantel were causing the mantel to seperate from the wall, so I decided to move them. Unfortunately, they were stuck somehow, and I knocked my two Virgin Mary candles on the tile. One shattered and spread broken glass into my sandals. Very fun. I like how Gene just sort of looked at me and when back to his ironing. Speaking of which, he can't iron. Claims he is genetically incapable. I plan on fixing this, somehow, because he has too many nice clothes to not be able to do this.

Went to Metro tonight with Rachel, and there was much card playing and merriment. She gave me a pretty silver ring of German origins. I think this is what gave me fascinating powers of conversation tonight. It has also inspired a secret project that I plan to start working on tonight, after I get another bandaid and a drink. I don't need to bleed all over the keyboard while I'm working on this.

dreaming

I have this vague sense of uneasiness, waking up this morning to a dream and a missed phone call.

The dream is interesting enough in just how realistic it was, how many people from my waking life were there. A large part of it centered around drinking wine, and discussing sedatives, and a (so-far-as-I-know) non-existent Gogol novel titled 100 Days of a Man. There was a very large quantity of codeine pills on the coffee table, and I was laying on the floor with my head on Gene's knees, attempting to convince him that driving anywhere at the moment was not a good idea.

Earlier in the dream, I had seen Rose, whom I have not heard form in a long time. She slept in my bed, the waterbed I had as a child, and we bought Sandman comics. One of my cats died a gruesome death of some twisted bone disease. Later on, a good many of our friend were in the apartment. I remember Jon bitching about how long it would be until the next batch of beer was ready, and getting into an argument with a very pregnant Karen.

It's strange, the things you remember. Strange how waking up in your own bed can be disconcerting.

Нас не догонят, Тату

Нас не догонят....

Только скажи,
Дальше нас двое.
Только огни
Аэродрома.
Мы убежим,
Нас не догонят.
Дальше от них,
Дальше от дома.
Ночь-проводник
Спрячь наши тени
За облака.
За облаками
Нас не найдут,
Нас не изменят.
Им не достать
Звезды руками.

Небо уронит
Ночь на ладони.
Нас не догонят,
Нас не догонят.
Небо уронит
Ночь на ладони.
Нас не догонят,
Нас не догонят.

Нас не догонят....

Мы убежим,
Все будет просто.
Ночь упадет,
Небо уронит.
И пустота на перекрестках.
И пустота нас не догонит.
Не говори, им не понятно.
Только без них,
Только не мимо.
Лучше никак,
Но не обратно.
Только не с ними.
Только не с ними.

Нас не догонят....

Небо уронит
Ночь на ладони.
Нас не догонят,
Нас не догонят.
Небо уронит
Ночь на ладони.
Нас не догонят,
Нас не догонят.

Нас не догонят....