I think the issue I have with SF is that everything is so vivid still. I could go back and love it all over again and feel like I've never left. I am the right amount of tired and full of vodka-tonics to be considered of a slightly unsound mind and that's okay ! That's okay that I feel this way. I want to move to SF now and not come back and make ( Read more... )

Just got back from San Francisco/San Diego. I would go back in a heartbeat. I'm in love with the west coast it's safe to say. Their people are laid back, pleasant, just tanned enough. The landscape is undulating with steep peaks and geometric buildings-- and oh, those buildings. Crammed together with no viable pattern or logic unlike their rigid ( Read more... )

I am swollen with too many words. Fragments of thoughts spurt out inconsistently. I find myself wanting to write them and sing them and sign them and cry over them and sleep ontop of them, but that wouldn't go over well ( Read more... )

missed ships mirrored launches portside jumps jack in the boxes influenced articles exemplary modes of transportation syphon the bag out with the wreckage mensa messages your grandfather was a genius, you are not stupid promise me you'll analyze what you're getting yourself into he almost ran me off the road, it was sortof funny I think. do you ( Read more... )

"I'm too much for you, aren't I? I'm always talking too loud, driving too fast, caring too much. I'm sorry, but that's the way I am, I can't help that." I'm blabbing at this point. Over-defending myself ( Read more... )

That color always reminds me of my summers down the Jersey shore. It’s the color of the sun-faded oranges and browns of the various patterns around our three-room bungalow of a shore house. When you walk into the home, it’s as if the time stopped on 1976, with floral curtains and ochre seat covers. Years of sun, salt, and humidity have given a ( Read more... )

I have so much and so little to write.
The shore is wonderful and awful all at once.

Must I note that I'm tired of feeling both extremes ? Maybe physically making my own art instead of just helping Julie might fix some of this.

Between embroidery needle pricks, attempting to get the etching ink out from embedded underneath my nails, and having labored breathing due to turpenoid fumes, every once in awhile I'll catch a break and realize that school is almost over. The shore in less than three weeks. Although I'm anticipating the end of this fibers class, and the final ( Read more... )

Talk about eventful. Thursday I apparently left my car running, unlocked, while I went to painting class. Yet while I was in said three-hour class, Chuck professed his love for my portrait (keep in mind, he has painted numerous things for NASA and the US Senate) and told me to clean up early because I was "done." Later the security guard, while I ( Read more... )

I'm in and out, up and down. High and low. This varies from day to day, honestly. I'm weak in constants and strong in opinions. Those thin lines have been blurred beyond recovery; everything from close and acquaintance, teacher and friend, friend and well, more than. I wish I could restore some of it, but I need to roll with the punches. And for ( Read more... )