"Forever." said the mouse

After being united/reunited with the ever amazing Helena through FaceBook, i have been thinking a lot about writing, and more importantly what i used to write. I was trying to find something to send her way as a decent sample of my old writing, and ended up stumbling upon a treasure trove of angst-ridden writing from my first few years of art school. A lot of talk about plants, my dead father, bars, laying in bed, ghosts, a girl i have seen once in three years, ear drums, subway systems, and everything of the sort. I came upon something i had written when i was 19, which was basically a fake diary entries from the age of 5 to death...about 10 of them, each one placed oddly between long stretches of time. Within these entries was this:

"May 2nd, 2007, age 23. I wish I were 18. I live in a studio apartment, with a cat. My cat’s name is “Sweet Macey”, she hates it when I call her that. I called HER the other day, she said she missed me, but not enough to talk for more than 5 minutes. She just has a funny way of loving me I guess. I don’t really get out that much, I bought a coffee maker, because the café threatened to arrest me. I didn’t know a twenty three year old could loiter. I cut open bagels and whisper to them that the have been lied to. Sometimes they whisper back the same thing in return. My sink is uninhabited by ghosts and relatives alike, and I miss everyone. I don’t have a car, I walk everywhere, and complain to no one that my boots hurt my feet. I guess my legs are still crooked"

After reading this, i burst into tears. I have no idea how i was able to hit the nail on the head almost 5 years ago. I need to change something, and i need to change it fast.

What a great way to start a birthday.

The Road

I finished reading The Road last night, at 3 in the morning. I read it basically in two chunks, which is pretty rare for me because i am usually skipping between like 3-4 books a a time.

I tried to think about writing a review for the book...but it's almost impossible. All i can say is i want to be buried with a copy of this book tucked beneath my arm.

And even though the first thing i did was rip your label off when i bought the book, thank you again Oprah.

And All Of A Sudden I Miss Everyone

If you hadn't noticed, i have spent a large amount of my life drawing bedroom scenes. I used to thrive on the sexiness and mystery that i could get out of drawing them...but anymore, the only feeling i can evoke out of it is loneliness. My bedroom is a room i try not to go into unless i am about to fall asleep...i try not to even think about it for the most part. The pillow next to mine is only there these days to hold a book and cigarettes.

I have spent the last week reupholstering a lot of my furniture. I redid two of my chairs in black vinyl, and now have spent the last three days reconditioning, and redying the leather of my Eames lounger. And now i reworked the mechanics so you don't feel like you are going to die when you sit down in it. Now, i am just waiting for my leather patching kit to arrive in the mail, and we are good to go:

I had totally forgotten how much i like sewing heavy fabrics and dying leather. I spent a chunk of art school at a sewing machine, or with grey hands....i cant really even remember the last time i even attempted it (i think the last time was redying my ex-girlfriends boots a few years ago). It is such a great feeling to bring something back to life...something there...something solid. Such a different feeling than scribbling on pieces of paper.

I am more than half-way through The Road, and quite honestly it may be ruining my life but i am loving ever minute of it. I compared it to a friend the other day...of coming out of a dark theater to a bright parking lot and being amazed that the world still exists outside that theater. This is how i feel every time i put the book down. I don't know what the fuck Oprah was thinking.

I have become completely entranced with Facebook. It relieves all my Myspace woes, and trust me...there were a lot of them. In a matter of a few days, i have been frighteningly reunited with people i would have never thought i would hear from again. It's like being given another chance.

My birthday is on Thursday. it will be the first birthday in my entire life that i don't wake up to someone wishing me a happy birthday. There has been talk of a party. There has been talk of all sorts of things....but really,. i just want to get it over with. I keep thinking about turning 24, and all i can think is "that's it? aren't i older yet?".

I was supposed to go to Chinatown with Sharlene and buy computer parts and a switch blade, but thats apparently not going to happen. Instead I think i'm just going to oil leather.

ps: roomba, please fulfill my automated fantasies of cleanliness.