Day: September 4, 2004

Charlie Chaplin in the park starts soon. Half an hour maybe. I should get going but it’s difficult. I don’t know who else will be there. In spite of a rather engaging chat with some of Silva‘s brilliant friends, I’m feeling rather alone this evening. I need work that let’s me accomplish something I suppose or let’s me pretend I do. I’m alone in the box now, wandering about looking for the ferret, underwear, and warm things. If it were slightly warmer I would collect dashing apparel and kill my way through the park but.. *sighs* Chill cancels out fishnets. Maybe I’ll wear the gloves anyways, just so I know they’re there. I’m learning how to look like someone you would want to kick your ass and I’m liking it. Keeps me stablized when I’m feeling lonely and violent. Time to go blow things up. Time to get my boy back in town. I need some boots that lace halfway to heaven and I’m set.

{some notes on a piano in an old house with blue painted walls and a hardwood floor}

Talking with William adds to my procrastination, but it’s also a nice one. Bloody bastard world, sending me to all these wonderful people. I need to start up a dangerous hobby so I can be as interesting. Any suggestions?

We are under attack. Our kitchen is held hostage and the invaders are creeping into the rest of the apartment. I am talking of fruit flies. One look and it’s assumed that we have had an accident with black spraypint. This is not the case. The air is gritty with flying specks. Sudden population explosion. Thousands. They’re creeping us out. It is a slight war, but an important one. Our food is in there…

These were taken the afternoon of the Zim Marathon. Bill wanted to take pictures of my being pretty as I was being upset that he was blowing off my event. I think my general unhappiness can be seen, but whatever. I like how I can follow the arguement through the three photos, from wanting the camera put away now to finally just giving in because there’s nothing left, but honestly I’m more concerned as to how I could have completely missed the fact that my corset is now laced to fit me properly at three inches less. How could I not have noticed thirty pounds? I would assume I would have felt lighter somehow with so much less to carry around…
That and wow never cross me so that I look that depressed and pissed off ever. I may have to kill you.

aerodynamically curvaceous doesn’t cut it