I guess it is different now that I'm poor and aging. A little less asleep. A little more talkative.
Umm… Brena just walk into the room with a huge brush in her mouth. That was fucking weird/hilarious. Holy shit! She just walk on out with it. And I'm left with that strange laughing in an empty room by yourself feeling. Cute.
Where was I? Ah. So I went to breakfast with my grandfather today. We talked. I was already feeling weird seeing how he was in my house and in full view of our alcohol shelf and the rooms themselves reek of a thousand cigarettes and other such variations of smokable things. Sheesh. We went to dennys and settled sown in the booth and I was ready for the questions. My grandfather though, is one cool guy. We talked and talked and talked. About my situation, about Joey and
Aaaaaah.. Say hello to the angels. Fuck I love this song.
Ok so when I moved in to this here house there were these doors on my closet that have since been removed. Their French type doors with the angled shingles in them and whatnot. Recently I've made them my new project. I plan to paint them with a scene from one of my dreams, where the trees looked like fire and the ocean was just another layer beneath the earth. Pretty. I've already started and things are looking pretty good. More on this later.
Last night has to be the first night in a very long time where I've gone to bed before 12. Since in jumping on the bettering myself boat we're stopping the late night starbucks and mid week drinking in favor of eight hours and gym visits. Yea, me. Anyhow. So Jonathan comes over early, to stop in for a bit, since he was my main late night companion and now hell have to be the midday one, and he asks me if I would want this art caddy that his roommate left behind some time ago. I of course give him a fuck yea, and we go to pick it up. I'm of course thinking that no one would leave an art caddy behind unless there's shit in it but when we get home and I open it its fucking full of pens and pencils, rulers, stencils, patches, any kind of eraser you can think of and a gaggle of sculpting tools. Fuuuuuck. I nearly cry. And he just gave it to me. It was the fucking coolest thing ever. It actually inspired me a bit since my wrist was hurting from painting and I was in the maybe I should give up place we artists get to whenever we start any project. Sigh. Thank you again mister.
Shit if you ever want to court me instead of flowers just give me soft leaded pencils and kneaded erasers. Haha. Flowers are shite.
So yea. I have to get ready for work soon. A good ol 12 hour shift almost. Bah.
More Interpol. I need more Interpol. Right now.