Sep 05, 2007 00:17
I was looking at Rach's friend's secret-posting page, and then went to postsecret, and then went to postqueer and found my photo. Which i had actually forgotten I had sent in. It's number 35 (you can tell though, it's photos of me). Kind of disarming as I thought I hadn't sent it in. It's silly, too. Don't judge me too much :)
I am watching Amanda sleep. I feel enormously responsible for her suddenly. Reading Joan Didion's "The Year of Magical Thinking" makes me worry about the people I love. I now want to accrue massive amounts of money so that I can fly to Los Angeles and live in a hotel for a year while my child/lover/friend/family member recovers. I want to be able to demand the best doctor and write sentences like "I suggested a doctor form Colombia-Presbyterian" as if i would know a doctor from Colombia Presbyterian. I want to take care of people no matter what the situation is. I want my love transformed into something practical and tangible that allows people to survive and continue. Also, it wouldn't hurt to win a National Book Award either.