Author Archives: alexandranaughton

It’s 11:02

I’m really gonna watch that movie now. And then go to bed. And not forget to put my mouth guard in after I brush my teeth before I fall asleep so my head doesn’t hurt when I wake up because I have a music video to make, people. This was fun to do. I love you. Good night. Now it’s 11:03.


It’s 10:31 pm. Uploading more photos from earlier (4:57 pm, 5:12 pm, 5:40 pm)

At 4:58 pm I picked up a newspaper, ripped a page out, and jotted down notes of the things I was seeing on my walk. A guy driving a dry cleaning delivery truck smoking a cigarette. In the Castro, a naked dude, which isn’t an uncommon occurrence, and two sorority-looking girls walking behind him and snapping a photo of his behind with their iphone, which I thought was rude. And later, at the slides, this dude was there with his kids (I guess) and we were talking about public funds being used for parks and schools instead of putting people in prison for victimless crimes. Then, the first example he cited, was some guy getting 8 years for downloading a kiddie porn picture and distributing it. I looked at him like, really? That’s the example you cite of a victimless crime? And your kids are right there? That was hella uncomfortable.




Drag version of The Craft showing at the Castro Theatre.



More photos from my walk. The “Lost Lovebird” sign made me sad. I had a hamburger and I thought the onion and tomato slices would make cute earrings.


It’s 10:45 pm. My back hurts from sitting at this computer for several hours now. I need some back support. I need a back massage. I need a vacation.

It’s 10:15 pm. Billy Corgan just sang to me, “It’s you that I adore, you will always be my whore”

Feel reluctant to really share any personal feelings or details on here. I blog, but I don’t really get too personal because I don’t really want all my shit out there. I do that when I write poetry. 

Going to finish listening to this concert, going to keep writing poems, and then I swear to god I’m going to watch John Dies At The End again.

It’s 10:18 pm. “In you I feel so pretty, in you I crash cars.”

It’s 9:27 pm. Ugh.

Now it’s 9:28. I’m listening to Belle & Sebastian, but it’s a playlist and it’s begun to repeat so I’m going to change it. I have an idea for some poems and a story and I really want to get it down. I have a google doc open. I’m writing this stuff down.

Now it’s 9:52 pm. I am listening to this same damn Smashing Pumpkins concert in Dublin and feeling kind of sad. I like listening to sad music. I don’t think being sad is bad, but perhaps dwelling in it to the point where it stops you from doing the things you like for an extended period of time is bad. I dunno, though. I just like listening to melancholy music. Black bile is my friend.

It’s 9:56 pm. I’m chatting with a few different people talking about plans for tomorrow. I have my alarm set for 10 am. It’s going to be rough. Hopefully my coordinations will work out. I like planning big things like this, even though this isn’t even big whatever, but I worry about the details. Not the fine details, I guess, but I dunno. I like to worry.

It’s 10:02 pm. “Blank Page” man, I could listen to this song like 400 times in a row while stuck on an elevator and not be sick of it. In fact, it would probably be the thing keeping me sane. Wish it was 1998.

It’s 8:05, I documented my walk.

Photos take a long time to upload, plus I had all this video on my camera from last weekend when we filmed for my music video project. Some photos from my walk.

Took a walk with Janey. First I stood in a pile of leaves.


Then we went to this public playground with these super cool slides, but apparently we came too late, after 5 pm, and these barricades were up. I still totally went down the slide, but I had to slide down in sections.


Then I left a note in a discarded silverware box in front of this spooky old house. I thought it looked like a haunted house. My friend Alexis says, “You always say a house looks haunted if the paint is peeling.” Well, yeah, that’s one dead giveaway that the house is haunted. You don’t want to disturb the spirits more by renovating. For real.

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