Beethoven proves that Classical music can rock just as hard as any modern musical equivalent. The 3rd movement of his piano sonata, "Appassionata" inspires the listener with rythm and fury. When I hear it, the music seems to play through me.

Indian Sitar music can be just as captivating. Anoushka Shankar (daughter of renowned sari player and spiritual leader) plays with disciplined, yet emotive, intensity. The traditional Indian songs that she plays begin slowly, each note hanging in the air and resonating on top of one another eerily. The songs slowly build up to a complex string of notes that seem humanly impossible to play. I have to add that Anoushka is also stunning, and was the first female to have received the British Commons shield award in recognition of her talent (at the tender age of 18). PROPS to you, Anoushka!

Beethoven and Anoushka receive my "hardest rocking artist" award for the day.

Honorable mentions: Sly and the Family Stone (for racial and gender diversity, and the ability to drop extremely phat beats), Jeff Buckley (for being a fucking god), The The (for attempting to expand the listener's consciousness), and all bands of the Chilean punk rock genre (for shits and giggles).

The only notable thing today was the sight of 3 overweight white men sitting in a car with a "celebrate diversity" bumper sticker.

I received a call tonight. A friend said, with an urgent tone in his voice, "go outside, you may be able to catch the sunset...bye", and hung up.

There's a spot at the top of the hill, a few blocks from where I am staying. From this spot, practically the entire city of seattle can be seen, a sparkling art deco foreground to the jagged sillhouette of the mountains. I bolted out the door, headed towards this favorite viewing spot.

I caught the last moment of the sun setting behind the mountains. Grey blue clouds, outlined by fiery yellow orange, capped the shadowy city. As I approached, panting and running, the bright neon that had outlined the clouds began to fade. I stopped to take it in. The muted pastel sky softly opened me to it. A breeze came, whispering through my fingertips and gently sweeping my hair behind me.

Sometimes we find love in the strangest places.

My older sister possesses the kind of magic that allows her to turn any situation into an opportunity for expression. She is a vessel for creativity, fearlessness, and intuition.

For example, when we were children, she turned three cardboard boxes and a green afghan into a christmas tree. She draped the afghan over the stacked boxes and told me it was a christmas tree. And when I looked at it, it sparkled and glowed with tinsel and multicolored lights.

At 10 years old, she had already discovered the gift of creating and projecting a life that didn't exist.

At 5, I had discovered the ability to believe it, and her, wholeheartedly.

In 1 month, I'll be joining her in New York city. For the first time in 15 years, we will be under the same roof again. Once again, struggling to exist amidst whatever chaos we may encounter. I can't wait to see what kind of magic we will create.

Last night, I dreamt that we were assassins in training. You were forced to wrap my naked body in bedsheets as an excersize in detaining your subject. I was startled that you were one of the few that was chosen for this special project. Your fingers lingered around my waist a little longer than they should have...naughty you. Although I was your "victim" in this role play, I didn't struggle much.