My father gives me morning calls around 10 A.M., just in case I miss my daily alarm that goes off at 9:30 (which happens without fail, for I am a pretty consistent person). He calls me on my cell for five times, and if I don't pick it up, he dials our home number. And, since our home phone is connected to our door bell, it becomes the most hideous and obnoxious thing on earth when used as a morning call. It's basically as loud as fire alarms in four Columbia dorms I've lived in. Hence, when I feel my cell phone going off, I usually try very hard to pack up some consciousness and answer the dyam thing. And here's what happened a couple of days ago:

- Cell phone rings. So-Rim wakes up. It's my father calling at 10 A.M. So-Rim picks it up. -

Me: Hullo...
Dad: Wake up, So-Rim.
Me: (In sheer terror) Dad! Dad!
Dad: What? What?
Me: I think I lost my cell phone!
Dad: Really? Shoot, that's a bummer! Call me right away when you find it!

- Dad hangs up -
- So-Rim *really* wakes up around noon, and is dumbfounded at what has happened. -

Things get pretty funny around here. Perhaps it's the winter freezing our brains off.

lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins, my sin, my soul.

i was born to be a Nabokovian. born to be a 19th c. romanticist.
... born to live, to breath air, to inhale smoke, to exhale dirt.

i believe in my father, my Dark Avenger.
i believe in VERTIGO graphic novels.
i believe in Suede and David Bowie.
i believe in cinephilanthrophy.
i believe in Monk, Bird, Diz.
i believe in Billy Corgan.
i believe in angels.
i believe in glam.

i am learning to believe in myself.

it's so hard for me to be true.
but truth never hurts.

well, a little bit.
sometimes.

rimbaud and verlaine had absynthe.
so why cannot i?