Chaos · Darling

Good morning,
I've been drawing on my bathroom walls all night. Still haven't gotten very far, not even close to painting it. Its a lovely morning anyway and glad i'm here to see it. Really really fucking glad.

If you're wondering thats (starting at the top and going clockwise) Icarus, a rocket ship, peer area and the throbble foot specter (Edward Gorey- the object lesson)

The skirt is shiny w/sequins  down front seams.
Yes i'm talking on the phone.

New obsession: i got a drawing tablet. Traced the outline from a Dolce and Gabbana add and filled in the some detail...A little crooked?
new coat: 5$

name of day: Consuelo

After paying my awkward social dues (running away) went to a record sale at Caraboro century center. I got a Bedouin Sound Clash album, a roots of funk compilation and a bunch of EPs. We went looking for Johnny's, a newish coffee place, which we found behind a tienda . It looks to be charming, possible new spot. Sadly closed  early.  At antiques store bought coat, very exciting and had interesting conversation with the guy who runs the place. The whole town was brighter than usual, abuzz with energy. At home i cleaned everything and dyed several garments royal blue in the sink, effectively pissing off my roommate by singing all the while. In retrospect this was the most light hearted day i've had in a while. Achieved stability? On a sunday at that.
Tomorrow: pants sewing marathon.

This kinda pitiful but: apples in the stereo- radiation
  Old note:
last night i dreamed that i dreamed about my old house and awoke (in the dream) finding i was in my old room with the same slant ceilings and sky lights. All my family, except my sister, was in the kitchen. The dream was stunningly accurate. I must have been  a child because my brother was although I didn't see him or my dad directly. There was just a presence like a shadow of some one standing just out of vision.
it was summer and while the mountains bloom the deepest shade, by August everything fades paler.  The sun was mild. I rode with my dad in the moving truck down the gravel slope. i remember looking back, back at the pond, swing, porch till soaring briers blocked my view. it was not a common house. A man built it as his dream till his new wives hate of the country forced him away. it was a cabin on the side of a small mountain. three stories rested upon a short horizontal plane in the slope (we named it rock berry ridge). Over a plummeting  hill cautiously ran the steep gravel drive. The hill was permanently occupied with thickets too dense and vertical to banish. below 50 yards of grass where kept alive most of the time. The miniature pond of water lilies and ornamental pink cherry where creations of my father's weekends. Further toward the front road, overhung a great oak with plank and rope swing. A grove of invasive bamboo over took the let quarter of the yard, along the stream whose other shore towered wild bushes. A paradise ruled by great dark showers in the valley, uninfringed by close neighbors free and open. Azalea, daffodils and wisteria in the spring. Carpenter bees and yellow jackets landed on arm of still porch sitters. Rhododendrons dwelt high on the parkway cliffs above. The house was 30 miles from the nearest town and fifty mile from asheville. i have dreamed of returning, feared that it will be different. Its been nearly a decade and that house seems so often far realer then my life since.
-end-
Sadly that is the best desciption i have of the old place. Someday i'll write up a better one.

my house smelled sick when i got home today. i unpacked and rearranged the kitchen cupboards. Nora returned a letter to me yesterday. Each sentence an awkwardly idealistic statement, one piling up after another so densely nostalgic that the honesty it all was conceived barely hides my idiocy. i want to throw it away, better yet have it slip furtively  of its own will in to the trash. i couldn't possibly explain without her seeing the life i've lost. The most applicable word would be shame. Not shame for enthusiasm, but disgrace that it freely faded. After dark is no longer an adventure, quite and dignified, frivolously exclaimed, i know why we bothered strangers so much. I see you drag your feet.