6.29

No cause for alarm! Here is a pick of me smiling to reassure you

[Picture No Longer Available]

I've been editing. My hair is no longer short. I've been pondering the necessity of a toilet to illustrate a bad relationship. I considered how much of what you project as me is actually real. The conclusion was 45%. Music has been rather exceptional lately. finding the goods. To walk outside is to melt in your shoes. Suspicion is growing that Elk is a robot sent to infiltrate my psyche. I can't hear anything outside of my bedroom except the thuds of a murderer.

I'm throwing up shapes
Try to block them with Tupac
My jams are winning

6.25

I am very tired. I don't really like Henry James. I know he is great at writing but damn, it sucked.
um.
bathroom art.
lots of getting sick.

I named him Waspy, and he attacked the light for an hour then rested on the printer. I wonder if Waspy is lonely, if Waspy feels pressure to make babies. I wonder if Waspy is scared to face the rest of his life with very little support from his friends. I bet Waspy was too embarrassed to talk to them. He probably works out everyday to impress the ladies, but is too ashamed of his greedy nature to talk to them. Instead, he just buzzes around, chillin. He keeps looking at me with some intent of conversation, but I keep trying to explain that I do not speak wasp. Its disappointing really. I bet we could have some good times, me and Waspy.

6.22

She could do this thing where she would use a strand of her hair, wrap it around the rest of her hair and then pin it up into the pony tail she just created. To me, this was the most resourceful thing a woman could do. It was beautiful in the ease she was capable of pulling it off with. She would brush her bangs off her face, then flip her hair over one shoulder, anxiously. I could usually sense its soon arrival at this point and bubbles of excitement would began to fizz inside me. It would be nearly impossible for me to keep my eyes off her for the next few minutes, longing for the moment when she would select a small lock, usually from the nape of her neck, and began the process. There was something about the way she bowed her head to make it easier for her arms to work, and something in the tension she used to hold the pin in her teeth. It was remarkably honest. With her hair pulled away, I could see the gentle lines of her neck and her small ears brushed with a few escaped strands of hair. She seemed ready now. This was not a woman who could hide behind a curtain of keratin.

This was a common occurrence in restaurants. She would be in the middle of explaining the latest tangle in the web of her social life. I would be pushing vegetables around on my plate and listening with mild interest. I still got a few of her friends jumbled. But my interest would peak when she began to dig in her purse. I would wait patiently, interjecting a few didn't she just sleep with his brother last week? and wow, it really makes you wonder what she isn't telling us when she stopped talking to eat some of her meal. She swept her strands over her shoulder. I stared at her under my lowered eyes. I felt the heat rush to my chest as she bowed her head and raised her arms. She talked to her lap while twisting her arms behind her head, continuing her story through clenched teeth. The dark pin reminded me of a cowboy's cigarette right before the shoot out. It knew nothing but anticipation. The pin and I waited for her to perfect the tension and placement of it's new home. With one swift motion she jabbed the pin into her hair. Lifting her face, she smiled. Ready.

6.15

When ever you want to feel disconnected from the world, just look at humans in nature settings. It doesn't look right. Put some naked humans in a forrest and tell them, "Go". I guarantee it would look very silly in 2 hours. There is an artist who took this point, but she left her subjects clothed which ruined it for me. Tribal humans wearing T shirts is when I notice they are impoverished. They have such beautiful traditional coverings. T shirts and jeans have spread across the world like piss in a lake. Tainting everything. Ruining what is naturally there.
It is funny how one thing starts to ruin everything. Who the fuck cares of someone peed in the pool? Everyone has peed in a pool.

Dick fed the cat.
Dick fed the cat, even though he hated it.
Dick leaned down to scoop some food in to the cat's bowl. The weight shift was pushing his toes into the damp spot left in his shoe from where the cat vomited. Fucking cat.

He took me to the park, and I looked at his face.
I let him touch my hair.
I imagined our wedding pictures, his crooked teeth sticking out, my "this is the happiest moment of my life" smile, but it all would be a lie.
I knew this wouldn't go any where.
He tells me things that should catch my interest.
His father's life story. I should have cared about my future father-in-law.
He imagines what I look like naked.
I imagine looking at his face over breakfast.
There is something in the way he looks at children and looks back at me.
I memorize the swing's chain links with my finger tips.
He thinks blushing is adorable.

6.10

I think of all these beautiful things to tell you. and I always forget. Always.
I spend all my time doing homework, thinking about homework, eating so I can stay awake for more homework, and laying in bed "dreaming" of homework. It's more of a staring at the ceiling type dream.
I had a bad experience after making so much progress. My mind was more fearsome than I had imagined. When faced with a landscape of infinite creation my mind decides to spend its time proving what is reality and what is fiction.
I am always told I am a black n' white person. It either is or it isn't. In short, I am always told I am a bitch.
But how are things not what they are or are what they aren't? I either have a notebook or I don't. Now, I might go get a notebook. There is a 50% chance that I might go to the store and pick out the biggest and thickest notebook possible, but that doesn't mean I have 50% of a book. I still don't have the book.
If I feel sick then I am sick. I'm not kind of sick. If I am not well, I am sick.

I call this one, "I've lived in this apartment for two years. I'm an American."

I call this one, "I'd rather be murdered than do this again".

I call this one, "Spots on the nose go down to the toes".

I call this one, "If you steal this fucker, I will murder you".

6.5

So, I thought I would blog before my other class starts. I've deleted my last few idling blog submissions due to the fact that they might be read as personal attacks, and so I have come to a standstill.
I feel a great rush coming over me.
This blog used to be a secret, but I let my need for attention come over me and slowly told more and more people until a post on Facebook happened. Now, I can't shit-talk any of you fuckers.
I am still awaiting an essay that decides our fate. pate is a weird looking word. and the word slit has been bothering me more and more with each passing day. I love my literature class. I am blindly fumbling around my weaving class.
I think my isolation really fucked with my social skills. I am back to square one with eye contact abilities; too much staring- not enough during conversations.
But during that time I built a fort!

It was very womby.
Elk really liked it but kept trying to walk on the ceiling.
Lc was unimpressed.

 Shelby and I are learning how to sectionally warp the Jacquard loom. It's pretty ballsy.
HI SHELBY! You're pretty cool.

These are some men we saw.
They are building our studio spaces.
One's name was Sam. He wore Adidas.
Our architect wears really expensive shoes.
The other two wore hiking boots.
People's shoes tell a lot about them.

 This is how she looks at me when I eat.
Like, "are you really going to eat both of your pieces of bacon? Because sharing that jazz would be preferable."
To which I respond, "Who's a good girl!? You are! ohhhhhh ohhhh", just to piss her off.
Lc is not one for baby talk.

This picture is amazing.
And I love it.
I want everything about it.
yes.
please!

6.1

I dunno. I thought I had things to say to you, but they all escaped. I guess I'll just show you some pictures.

 I'm going to write stuff under them though. This game happened and was fun. 

 Oklahoma clouds are to die for. 

 Found at a rest stop. Scary sculpture isn't nice. How does this promote safety? 

 Always with the games. 

 This happened.

 Lc does love bacon. Sorry my apartment has been a mess. You can see my new vacuum.

 Cat duplex.

 I really love watermelon. I've eaten two in the past 2 weeks. So delicious

 The cats in the bathroom.

 Silk is Elk's favorite play thing. I spread it out on the floor, and she runs and slides all over it. 

 Garlic Green beans and some roasted lamb. 

 The cats make strange faces. 

 Beef and vegetables. 

Now's the part when most people notice the large amount of cat pictures and are either all, "Crazy cat lady!", or, "Karma whore!", but I urge them to remember that I love all animals. Cats are convenient, expressive. They don't have any concept of what I am doing and are easily trained. I've been cooking a lot, and I feel really shaky? Toffee is delicious.