SANS SUCRE

I'm writing this just before hauling my ass to Mistress Ivy's for yoga. I have to take my sugar with me because she's run out of sugar and doesn't take it in her tea. She takes milk though, and I don't. We like tea. A lot. Obv.

I just came back from Skin Two; made some plans to cover some stuff in Cali this summer, worked on photo book coming out later this year. He gave me a Skin Two email.

Last night was whack. Le Vampyre totally lured me away from writing up some reviews, brought over wine, then we lured Mistress Ivy away from her bed, went to ASDA, bought more wine, and snacks, and reduced price rice (...?), then waited at the bus stop sharing a bottle. Back to mine where Mistress Ivy started playing dress-up with all my clothes. She might buy a black bob wig off me, a frilly skirt and some hot pants..and a book to teach her Japanese. Le Vampyre bought some Prozac off me. He also enjoyed walking in a pair of my heels. We were toast. Like...at one point I decided to take out my digital recorder and record the room to check if there were ghosts. Left it on all night through our bullshit talk. I might not play it back yet. I think I'll listen to it on my flight home. I have a Pedestrian Crossing sign in my room.