It's my weak spot

"Thanks for complimenting my eyes, I wish I got that more often."
Regrets, mistakes, accidents, nostalgia, lamentation.

"I'm looking for sugar substitutes"
Insipid, banal, mundane, pointless, tedious.

"I dig a solid convo"
Stout, corpulent, tough, strapping, hulking.

"I do stupid things when I get drunk and horny"
Foolish, absurd, inane, senseless, witless.

Oh you should have called again.

These are the lonely mornings

" but you pushed
pushed enough
enough to make it more than just a radio wave
more than just the static of hearts
more than just glances, touches, accidental brushes
more than just mistakes, regrets for things of non existence. "

Back on the grind.
Drawing inspiration from a new pool.
Old Milky.

Oh shit this is my life

And it's all over.
It's over for 4 months.
FUCK THIS FUCKING SHIT I DO NOT WANT TO BE ON SALT SPRING FUCK IT FUCK IT.
I WANT TO BE IN VICTORIA
I want to play poker till 3am before class.
I want to drink rye and rum on the walk home.
I want to blaze on playgrounds.
I want to hang out.
With people.
Who understand the differences between gouache and acrylic.
Who can tell you what Cubism did for Futurism.
And why we're all just students.

I miss this fucking shit.

With nights like these...

... You have to believe something like fate exists.

No one has sat on a playground with me and talked for that long in ages.
And when you've got mad pasties and only rum to drink, you know it's a good night.
My arm is sore from sleeping on it. I can't believe we walked that far.
We went to bed at 8am.
You were sweet.
Thank you for listening.
I won't forget that night for a while.

Art, understanding, addictions, relationships, drugs, drinking, past, present, future, sunsets, sunrises, memories, installations, ideas, concepts, cigarettes, walking, hands, photographs and you.

I am robot and proud.

How did we get here? One more class to go, 3 more interviews, and it's over.
Spent 5 hours and counting setting up an installation that doesn't even seem that great.
Putting up the photos was the most intense trip down memory lane.
I almost melted into silent sobs thinking back to the moments that caused those photos to even be taken. It was hard to put them up.
I'll post photos from this final project soon.

Skin flakes, shedding hair, post it notes and empty beer cans.
I wish you'd call me before I move.
So I could see you one more time.
And perhaps, that glance that caused my flesh to shudder off my bones could be so much more relaxed...
And I'd follow through.

Welcome to the Swiss Market

Why am I all of a sudden nostalgic for things that aren't over yet?
3 more classes.
4 more interviews.
And an Improv show on the 15th.
And I have to find time for you, to make you feel right.
You fucking owe me big time.

Today was spent drinking on the field between critique and my final interview for Intermedia.
Then drinking at Denny's with the V4L Triforce. Then some green indulgence at W's.
Then home, where I attempted to dig glass from my foot and made cookies and realised I have to trek 50 pounds of supplies to school tomorrow for my installation. (Photos on Friday.)
Joy.

Good luck finding someone if I don't fit the bill

tylenol x 2, sleeping aids x 2, vitamin c, cranberry and multivitamin. it was a long day.

My life in numbers would be as follows:

1 year of school completed.
2 mistakes that I don't regret (and would commit again).
3 friends I'm going to miss.
4 months of no school.
5 months that caused the boy and I so much grief.
6 reasons to come back.
7 more years of schooling, probably (degree, BFA, MFA, teaching certification...).
8 months where I ingested cadium, saw dust, clay and spray paint.
9 teachers that changed my life.
10 classes that taught me more than all my previous schooling.
and...
An infinity of ideas swirling in the vortex of my skull.

p.s. please respond to my e-mails.