People keep e-mailing me asking me if I am alright. I am fine. My world is not falling apart. I was just having a mentally ill moment because–like, you know, I can. It’s Friday. It’s raining. I have plans later so I need to actually make the most of the time I have today. If you are thinking to yourself Sabrina, don’t you always have plans? Then you wouldn’t be far off, but you know even party central Sabrina has to re-group before she ventures back out into bosom of the Pacific to meet and greet with everyone she has ever met and some she hasn’t.

In a little bit, I am going to make a pitcher of mojitos and pretend that it is not raining. It isn’t that I hate the rain. It’s that I hate the fucking wet and mud. I only hate the rain when I am stuck in it and currently I am in my house so everything is right with the world. I’ve been reading a lot these past couple of days and as often as I am not impressed with what is out there–I found myself incredibly excited to finish T.C. Boyle’s The Human Fly and Other Stories. It’s always nice to stumble upon a piece like that because I am tired of reading so much shit. On that note, I am going to read some more shit and then write some of my own.

True to everything that I stand for, and some things that I don’t I zapped my off days by going to a psychic. Some people think this course of action is more insane than actually admitting that I am going bonkers inside of my own head, but I disagree. I don’t really give a shit if anything that was told to me comes true. If anything it just gives me some new insight about my life. It’s almost like another author’s perspective. It might not be agreed with, but it is, at the very least, respected for it’s “artistic merit”. I can’t explain why I feel so much better, but I do.