Hello, I am now a resident of the French Quarter.

I've been very busy -- with moving, new jobs, restarting my relations with Xtreme Illusions (a drag/andro troupe that performs weekly at Bourbon Pub), busting my ass with Corrosion (the city's best goth night, featuring none other than Yours Truly and your breathtaking cast of hard-hitting, let's-get-naked DJs), and gearing up for Carnival (guess who's bartending for the infamous Krewe De Vieux party? You're looking at it), I haven't had much time for blogging. I also only have the internets at work, so I haven't really had much access to the World Wide Web. I will say this:

YOU GO READ Written on the Body by Jeanette Winterson RIGHT NOW. This book tore my soul apart. It's that good. Were I to underline every single fantastic line in this novel, the entire book would be underlined. Also, the narrator has no discernible gender -- they could be male, they could be female, the book never lets you know. I like that.

Also: fuck my uterus. With a 2 x 4. Holy shit ow motherfucker ow.

I did get my greedy hands on a copy of Mythmakers and Lawbreakers, and I plan on starting it very shortly. I am quite excited about it. I hope the book lives up to my expectations. A comrade who read it, who hates fiction, told me that the book inspired him to try to start writing fiction. How rad is that?

Alright, I've broken the 7AM mark. The grocery store in the quarter is now open, so I'm going to bike my way over and grab some provisions. I'm making dinner tonight in my new house, and realized I don't have too much to offer beyond seaweed, rice noodles, and the weird Brown Sugar PopTarts that my previous tenant left. I am a bit frazzled with after work fatigue and my uterus making me lose way more blood than necessary, so grocery shopping will most likely involve me wandering around rather aimlessly picking up random food objects that have nothing to do with one another. Let's just hope I don't end up with peanut brittle, three fish, some grapes, and mayonaise. I think even in this sleep-deprived state, I doubt I'd end up with that kind of awful assortment.

Good morning, world. Wish me luck.