Secret Pop

Jun 12, 2005

I'm always awake for earthquakes.

I felt this most recent one this morning. And I was awake when I felt it. But I don't know if it was what awakened me or if I just have a weird feral sort of premonitory power that makes sure my eyes are open when things wiggle around. It could be either. I place no value on it.

I didn't go to sleep until five thirty or so. So an earthquake in the eight a.m. hour that found me awake is saying something about me and my sleeping. I did go back to sleep eventually, but only for an hour or two. I did a lot of tidying today. And my friend Jeff stopped by, toting an iced coffee for me (praise heaven), to pick up boxes for his move. And we ended up talking about art and looking through my mountain of art supplies, and Jeff even drew a little guy with my super fancy Copic markers. It looks sort of like Hitler with a very healthy blush to his cranky face. All that talk and art time made me anxious to make a painting or something. And also to go to Comic-Con again, where I can't help but buy fancy art pens and books that make me want to draw things. I am still looking forward to it. But for some reason, I don't have as much hope and thrill tied up in the anticipation as I did earlier in the year. I'm not sure why that is. I know you only want what you can't have, but I didn't realize there was an algorithm pertaining to how can't the have is on an axis of time.

My landlord had some trees removed from the front of our building. The big, frosty louvered windows in my living room are brilliant white with sunshine. Blinding, almost. When I came out of my bedroom yesterday morning, I was confused. Wondered if I'd left my door open accidentally or something. How could there be this much light in here. Today, I was not as surprised, but I was dismayed at how much dustier and lintier everything looks when the room is so well-lit. My living room is all of a sudden very, very bright. And I suppose that will be good for some picture-taking. But it also means that -- when it's hot and I want the windows open -- I will have to rethink the "liberal" flavor of my at-home attire. Especially with that neighbor across the street still planning our wedding and everything. There's no need for him to get an eyeful of anything but what squirts out of one of those trick corsages. "Honk! Honk!" is the sound I imagine happens when you squirt one of those things. Even though I'm sure there's no horn involved.

From what I can tell, you need to be in pretty good shape to look good in spacesuits.

Maybe I will go draw a tree.

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