"IT'S A MUSTACHE."

Making feathers out of material that does get wet.

Disclaimer: I am not writing this in my word shit and then copying and pasting. No editing.

I am almost a real person again, so that's good news. Since I've been slightly made of jade for a year, give or take months or six to eight.

I want to go to France and I actually am going to this year. Before my next birthday. Fuck right. About fucking time in sooooo many ways. !!!

It was the Australian wine that got me pricing flights when I should have been reading dental reviews or some jazz and blah.

According to my last post I am supposed to post art things. I don't have a new photo so this is what you get:


(I don't want it. I just need it.... Maynard...) -nevermind that

^ this a month or so old ^ This I have for you dear readers tonight.

So I haven't dyed my hair in seven years. I am going to create something to ^this^effect with peroxide perhaps. Blah again.

The realization that I am an artist and that I am fleeting in the inspiration (or have been lacking entirely) is the begining of the sigh, the half breath, without follow through. This and the defotones makes me feel nostalgic...

Either way, anyway, I lost my thought... I am going to be my real self again soon.  By real, I mean of substance..... WHOA!!!!!!!!!!! Just killed a centipede!!!!!!!
 What was I saying?? I think I was going to say something about feeling like vapor, but killing that creepy thing... I now feel like a warrior. It a great night.

P.S. I went to a wedding over the weekend. Everyone should have a dancing bear at their nuptial and a fairy princess and a bonfire with pagan sacrifices. Just sayin. 

Tuesday 7:30am

Hangover sunburn construction outside my window ice cream sandwich.

tossed salads and scrambled eggs? WTF?!

Just spotted...L5 Graduates having 7 happy hours...where were you? Burning through Uptown bars like matches, there was some cavorting of the good kind. Catching up on gossip and life goals poured out as freely as the 10 dollar bottles of wine. If Uptown has become as unbearable as S says, it was impossible to tell tonight in this happy (and intoxicated) little clique. S and A: less jaded? Lonely boy: less lonely (but more in heat)? And a "new friend?" Burling Brother?

Is this a real blog or a spoof?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6CloKbXtD28&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Rebirth.

I wrote an entry awhile back about the horrors of the service industry. I firmly stand behind everything that I said.

However, I have recently come to realize that being in such an industry is simultaneously the best and worst. The networking that occurs from the peers you collect is truly amazing. The job opportunities alone are worth sticking around for. The crazy learning curve has quickly become my personal favorite perk. The fact that I just had a glass of incredibly expensive wine for next to nothing is pretty spectacular.

See, the cameraderie that comes from the worst of it creates the best of it. That's a pretty fucking large silver lining.

Art and the lack of art. The trash.

This weekend was Art-A-Whirl. I of course went, because I go every year. Beforehand I had a bunch of Mexican food and showed up to the winds of creativity completely full. Smart I thought; I will drink some beer while chatting and such. I stopped by a few galleries where I knew I’d actually see good art, and briskly walked passed all the crap art, trying not to look. I don’t like to look at crap.

It’s sometimes hard for me, when an image is in my face not to think about, critique about if you will. Whether I like it or not, I often have an opinion… (More on this.) If I don’t like it, I may offer suggestions to better whatever.

I went to a couple of the bars having music, which is where I drank the beers. I saw a lot of people I’ve met before. It was all in good fun, until all these five minute conversations about bullshit I don’t give a shit about started annoying me. This is the pointed in long days involving alcohol where I stare off at a dot on the wall or something and let my mind wander around my own head and I think.  Given the art mood of the day, I was also critiquing, ya know. Something else I’ve done a few times over the years is say what I think out loud while I’m zoned out or into something without realizing I am voicing my thoughts. I must have done this; it’s the only explanation…

My boyfriend comes up to me and shifts me from my trance by asking me why or if I said something to someone. Shit. I don’t remember saying it out loud, but I do remember thinking it.

This girl who I’ve been seeing around since she is friends of friends told my boyfriend I said she dresses trashy and that I never noticed she was pretty before because of it. It is true she does dress trashy; it is also true that I thought so during the few times I saw her throughout the day. I don’t actually remember saying it to her though. I guess she was crying about it, like I really hurt her feelings. She has to know she walks around looking like a slut, whether or not I actually told her or voiced my thought out loud while she was in my line of sight.

I feel bad about hurting her feelings, even though I don’t know her at all and don’t really care about her feelings, or why she told my boyfriend at all. I just don’t like upsetting anyone. It’s not nice. It obviously doesn’t make anyone feel awesome.

What I think about this now though is if someone said I dressed trashy, I would say they are full of shit and not think twice about. I am confident in the way I present myself in my fashion styles to the world. So this girl must know she wears attention getting clothes in the corner prostitute variety, she must lack confidence in herself and her apparel options.

I also know the popular saying, if you don’t have anything nice to say, than you shouldn’t say it all. So maybe she is a mind reader, or I’m just not nice at the end of the night when I’m annoyed and an eyes sore keeps showing up, like train wrecks or tornado damage you can’t look away from and only wish you could act in a way to better the situation.

I will mention that I am aware that my last post included feelings of annoyance. I will not turn all my spill blogging into venting about this particular feeling. Next time I will drink wine at home, and make my own art that is not crap and post the outcome on here.

America, Fuck Yeah

I accidentally drank a bottle of wine by myself tonight. It's been a while. It started with just a glass with dinner, but I was sitting outside and it was just so nice and familiar. Then, before I knew it, I was on the last glass. That nice warm feeling is somehow comforting to me when so many things are changing in my life. Hello old friend, it's been too long, how I've missed you. I wish we could see more of each other, but my schedule just isn't conducive to our lifestyle together. But we'll be close again in 40-50 years when I retire...I hope. As long as I'm rich. No one like a poor old drunk woman. But a 60-year-old woman in pearls and Channel can be as drunk as she wants too. Right? or have I been watching too much Gossip Girl? Whatever, I do what I want.