bicycles, knitting, sewing, zines, reading, writing, fantasy stories for teenagers, electric fans, history, decaying urban landscapes, Pony, Lyra (the cat)
got your msg, but i was out of the town. i asked after you today and realized that you were already gone. which made me sad because i saw you in ray's, but was in the middle of a convo in the back room and didn't stop to say hello until you had left already. i'll find you somehow...
Um, it's me again. That was some of the best soup I have ever had. And I'm not just saying that so that you will give me more. Thank you for it. I can feel it working.
Regarding your painting, here is what I will say: Grief generally drives one to do some pretty extraordinary things. And by extraordinary, I mean not ordinary, whether it is creating a work of art, becoming a total fuck up, or shaving your pubes with an electric buzzer. It brings change whether or not you know what to do with it. There is a confusing, repetitive, jarring feeling that comes with being really sorry, and a need to do something with all that energy, and your painting captured that.
This is just myspace, right? So, it's not that big of a deal. At the risk of sounding psycho, on myspace, where most people, most of the time, sound psycho: I get your painting. Good for you for putting it on paper. You're like a secret little badass. And that's why I love you.
