Monday, April 02, 2007

woman's sunglasses

Another day of surprising blankness. I can't think of much to write about. In regards of fiction or reality. I've managed to extend my magazine curtain contraption so it touches the bottom of the window as it hangs from the top. However, this leads to two problems. One, if I am to leave my window open--which I do--then I must extend part of the contraption out into the open and it leaves a much larger gap open. My orchid is a very attractive prospect to any bees that wish to fly this high to take a peek of it. Before, they would fly around the window in circles unable to come in. Now I fear they will discover there is enough clearance and zoom in taking residence in my plant.

The thought seems frightening, but if I knew for sure that they wouldn't sting me, I wouldn't have a problem sharing my room with some bees. Though, I think if I brought anyone over here, they would mind.

As for the other problem, extending my magazine blinds decreases the amount of sunlight that pours into the room. Which, was the reason in the first place to extend it. As I stood on top of my desk balancing with sunglasses on and in shorts and a white t-shirt, I realized that the problem wasn't the sun coming from the top of the window but not covering the bottom portion. It was bad. Because it splashed all over my computer, and I had a paranoia that the computer would start to fade and the lcd would get corrupted. And I also came out of the bathroom after showering and the fan was going full speed inside the machine, which I have never heard it do. So that prompted me into swift action.

It's sad not to have things so bright, but it does remove the necessity to wear sunglasses indoors for most of the day while trying to get any work done. Though I think I half do that cause I think I'm more bad ass. How would say I'm more bad ass with no one else to actually witness the bad assness. Iono, would be my reply.

Its Easter Break. That means most everyone is gone on some sort of holiday. I am going to see The Mountain Goats tomorrow, and that should provide relief to my insanity.

Middlemarch is a nightmare which there seems to be no end. I am already knee deep in gossip about why Dorothea would be marrying such a an old and withered man. And add to that that the town Middlemarch is expecting elections soon, well, hoho, there is some excitement brewing. I am going to wash my hands of Victorian Literature after this class.

I have laundry plans. I hope I keep them. I have one banana left. After that this seclusion is going to go downhill. With noting but a few bags of Teddy Grahams. However, listening to The Fiery Furnaces makes me feel way cooler than I really am. Like I am preparing for an awesome journey.

With a man who does nothing but smoke and wear goggles.

A lady who wears red dresses, puts red lipstick on in the car, and occasionally makes a dirty joke laughing hysterically with a whole crew of pirates that live in an attached trailer, with only one window that the lookout peers from calling land ho' whenever we pass a dirty little town.

A series of mutes who speak through pictures and scribbles. Our backseat is now littered with drawings of people screaming, people having sex, my face being stabbed, robots, apples and various other foods.

A robot that was built by a mad scientist. Both are in tow sitting on a the second story of the car, where he is constantly musing and swearing while the robot tries in futility to help him with his experiments.

We also picked up a hitchhiker who wished he had gotten on board a different car, and a ninja.

The ninja is really quiet, and really only says something when were in danger, 'Ahem, I believe we are being followed,' and then he just disappears and turns up later with a bunch of bloody shurikens and a scowl on his face. 'We should be more careful, we have enemies everywhere.'

Honest to god, that’s why I like the Fiery Furnaces, something about the way the music moves. These people just start appearing.

I feel defeated in regards to doing anything. Maybe that’s the point though. I think I’m just going to try and read more Middlemarch, but fall asleep and take a nap. I want to walk. But every time I go for a walk it ends up becoming an epic quest. Walking miles and miles just in one direction, then going right back in the other direction. And near the end I'm swearing, sweaty, and contemplating why I went for such a long walk. I just want to tire myself out to the point where I sleep for two days straight. I want to wake up after a long amount of time has passed and see whats changed. I want to see a huge change all at once, instead of gradual change slowly, like the polar ice caps melting. That is going to take forever. I think this speaks of how little patience I have.

The last time I went walking I did stumble into a strange art gallery. The artist’s studio was attached to the side. And it consisted of wooden blocks with strange mazes on the outside parts. A photograph that was a series of other photographs of a bridge. The series showed this bridge that was slowly being swallowed by ice and water. There was a painting of a half man half dog done in watercolors, and there was a bookshelf, with books on the top shelf and black wires hanging from the books. I failed to understand the book shelf installation. Maybe I didn’t try hard enough.

An excerpt from my hand written journal:

‘I was lying on the bed over there and staring at my blue hoodie and father’s coat. I thought I saw the arm move. Oh god! And before I knew it I saw a taller version of me in the coat hunched over looking at me. We stared at each other.’

take me for a ride on your blueberry boat

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