It's all piling up. All those little things
, trinkets, in my life. They are spreading over my bed, my dresser, overflowing from the laundry basket
and spreading along the floor, dishes coming out of the sink, compost and fruit flies. Filth
its all filth. My goal before I went to bed was to clean all of this, to organize, to rid the apartment of its evil dirt demons
, sadly I got to tired and wrote this and took a shower. At least I cleaned myself up
. The problem with this place is the amount of people crammed into, to small of a space, of which we are suppose to be grateful. The problem is that out of five people, none of us likes to clean. The problem is that the vacuum, which is strategically, placed in the hallway just trips me every time I head for the bathroom. And the worst problem is
that I was walking around barefoot the other day only to get a penny sized piece of glass
stuck in my foot. Ugh... Now the problem is that my foot hurts!
It's all piling up and I think I'll give up for a little while, well till the dawn breaks in the morn
and then perhaps I shall make these breakable goals again. And perhaps I wont just trip over the vacuum I'll vacuum, and do the dishes, and take out the compost
and the trash, and the recycling
, and, and, and...
I developed pictures today. I found this picture of a friend who I have a feeling I won’t see again. As I printed it I thought of her. She was a photographer too, much better than I. It was so precious to have her image. It's that wistful, forlorn, warm, feeling
like I was a child again, only knowing I would lose my childhood in a matter of hours. I love that feeling. Nostalgia
of a sort. I guess its a bit of the realization of how good times have been and how wonderful some are. She was always a little bit nervous, neurotic, yet uninhibited. Warm and sharp and incredibly humorous with a sarcastic wit, almost unequaled. People loved her, and gathered around, even the characters who were too cool
for most. She never realized the worship she inspired and she never thought herself particularly cool... but she could drink and dance and laugh, and tell stories, in a light, in creativity and passion...