27 January 2011
It's strange, because the weather is so nice but I only see the late afternoon and evening and very early morning and the starts of these pretty days everyone is talking about-sort of like excusing yourself at the beginning of a story and coming back towards the end, having very little context and convincing yourself that it's a whole other story; like three or four days packed into sixteen hours, not due to being overloaded with content but really because of the disjointedness of my consciousness. Yesterday I started watching Zulawski's Possession, drew, spoke to my friend Karlynne, finished a poem, ate breakfast, solved a puzzle, then went to bed. Then I woke up, watched my mother and bought film and fell in love at the post office and got into a fight. I watched more of Possession. Then I bought vanilla and ate a hamburger and poured half the vanilla into a coke and took a couple photos. Somehow I drove to, around, and back from Huntington Park. I looked at stars and Highland Park and I realized while I was unlocking my door that I felt like I had just lived a week. That really upset me.
It's also odd that I'm relating this to the perhaps two or three people who view this blog at all on this blog as it's where I post my work, et cetera. But I also view this blog as a way to indirectly communicate with aforementioned two or three people (outside of the people I live with, I only really talk to two other people on a regular basis, excluding my sister and grandmother) because I feel that the people who view this blog are trying to figure something out.