*Ahem*
I GOT JURIED INTO THE PHOTOGRAPHY SHOW AT FAVA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Holy crap, how exciting!!! If you are around on Sunday and related to me, be my guest at the awards ceremony!!!!!! My photo got juried in!!! Holy crap!
In other news.
It's funny how things are synchronous, but the other night I was listening to some of the old Strokes stuff we would listen to in HoH and it made me really damned nostalgic. I thought about the night on the porch of the old house right after we'd gotten Euc's earthcaller. Those were such good times. In breath out breath. My fingers try to grip around smoke rings and all I do is muddle up the simple chaotic beauty that they dance so easily.
And,
also,
I want to be your friend like the one she wrote about sitting across the table from her in the kitchen. I want to be your lover and your mistress. Your rock and the one who would arm herself with spray paint in the middle of the night. I don't understand the male mind, though, and I am beginning to wonder if it is even an acheivable feat.
www.plentyoffish.com undermines my greatest efforts to understand who/what you are. You know what I really want you to do? Delete all of that shit. Out with it. Part of you is attached to it somehow, and as long as that part is attached I will always be eyeing that crack in the doorway in the back of the room. Forward, march! My fingers look skinny and my grip seems so weak; all these damned smoke rings and what I yearn for is some concrete proof. Something tenable.
Holy crap, how exciting!!! If you are around on Sunday and related to me, be my guest at the awards ceremony!!!!!! My photo got juried in!!! Holy crap!
In other news.
It's funny how things are synchronous, but the other night I was listening to some of the old Strokes stuff we would listen to in HoH and it made me really damned nostalgic. I thought about the night on the porch of the old house right after we'd gotten Euc's earthcaller. Those were such good times. In breath out breath. My fingers try to grip around smoke rings and all I do is muddle up the simple chaotic beauty that they dance so easily.
And,
also,
I want to be your friend like the one she wrote about sitting across the table from her in the kitchen. I want to be your lover and your mistress. Your rock and the one who would arm herself with spray paint in the middle of the night. I don't understand the male mind, though, and I am beginning to wonder if it is even an acheivable feat.
www.plentyoffish.com undermines my greatest efforts to understand who/what you are. You know what I really want you to do? Delete all of that shit. Out with it. Part of you is attached to it somehow, and as long as that part is attached I will always be eyeing that crack in the doorway in the back of the room. Forward, march! My fingers look skinny and my grip seems so weak; all these damned smoke rings and what I yearn for is some concrete proof. Something tenable.
2 Comments:
At 8:15 AM,
porfiry said…
Oh my god, holy crap, congratulations!!!!!!!!!! Dude, that is so awesome! It's funny too because you picked that photo for yourself, not for all those old hags and cronies. I will absolutely be there on Sunday, just tell me when to show up!
Quick funny story: yesterday at the gym I was on a stair-stepper gazing vacantly out of the big windows to the street below. All of a sudden out walks Fuller, into her car parked on the street. She puts it in reverse and backs STRAIGHT INTO the car behind her. Like MAJORLY into the car behind her. She seemed to take no notice though, and drove away. (As visions of Nana danced in my head!)
At 10:39 PM,
bava said…
You're awesome, and congratulations on getting into the FAVA show. That's rockin'!
Wish I could go, though. Boo.
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