Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
spotted on the N
- white woman, grey hair, ethnic-looking bag, reading one-day old ny times
- young black woman, brown glasses, black sweater over grey sweater (with white bearded dude in sweater vest and grey sauconys), reading oscar wao
- white dude, sloppy hoody and tee shirt, reading data modeling essentials
- tall, thin white chick, in yoga pants, fleece top, and pristine nikes, with timbuktu bag, reading women's health
- young asian dude, bald, glasses, reading zombie survival guide
- young asian woman, short hair, keeps looking around, reading two-day old ny times (me)
- white woman, grey hair, ethnic-looking bag, reading one-day old ny times
- young black woman, brown glasses, black sweater over grey sweater (with white bearded dude in sweater vest and grey sauconys), reading oscar wao
- white dude, sloppy hoody and tee shirt, reading data modeling essentials
- tall, thin white chick, in yoga pants, fleece top, and pristine nikes, with timbuktu bag, reading women's health
- young asian dude, bald, glasses, reading zombie survival guide
- young asian woman, short hair, keeps looking around, reading two-day old ny times (me)
Sunday, September 07, 2008
blogging from casa macabasco -
spent the day boating with the family and then cleaning for a few hours my old junk that i left here since the move to the maxi pad. by old, i mean like from since i was born.
i've been doing it sporadically on weekends for the past month, since steve left. i promised my parents i'd clean one thing each time i was at their place. the whole time it's been a strangely intense emotional experience. like i find scraps of paper with itineraries, packing lists, questions for interviews, notes to self, etc. (i am and always have been a major writer-downer, which is why i still have a planner instead of a palm or itouch).
today i cleaned a huge amount of stuff. i used to be one of those sentimental types that kept everything as mementos. there were tons of photos of friends that i no longer speak to (or care to), short stories i wrote when i was in elementary school, a report i did on isabel allende, a report on the california miners that had a cover page watercolored by me (?), ticket stubs, museum maps (who keeps this stuff?), a pair of leather pants (an unfortunate fashion decision), photos from so many formal dances that i want to dump but will keep for now, mix tapes, metro cards from everywhere, team sweatshirts and warmups from my basketball days, birthday cards, notes - jesus. i found a notebook with a five page letter to a guy - written on one of those long solitary flights where all you can do is wallow in your loneliness and the mistakes you've made - that i never summoned the courage to send and couldn't bear to read now.
god who needs a nap?
spent the day boating with the family and then cleaning for a few hours my old junk that i left here since the move to the maxi pad. by old, i mean like from since i was born.
i've been doing it sporadically on weekends for the past month, since steve left. i promised my parents i'd clean one thing each time i was at their place. the whole time it's been a strangely intense emotional experience. like i find scraps of paper with itineraries, packing lists, questions for interviews, notes to self, etc. (i am and always have been a major writer-downer, which is why i still have a planner instead of a palm or itouch).
today i cleaned a huge amount of stuff. i used to be one of those sentimental types that kept everything as mementos. there were tons of photos of friends that i no longer speak to (or care to), short stories i wrote when i was in elementary school, a report i did on isabel allende, a report on the california miners that had a cover page watercolored by me (?), ticket stubs, museum maps (who keeps this stuff?), a pair of leather pants (an unfortunate fashion decision), photos from so many formal dances that i want to dump but will keep for now, mix tapes, metro cards from everywhere, team sweatshirts and warmups from my basketball days, birthday cards, notes - jesus. i found a notebook with a five page letter to a guy - written on one of those long solitary flights where all you can do is wallow in your loneliness and the mistakes you've made - that i never summoned the courage to send and couldn't bear to read now.
god who needs a nap?
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