Hmm.
The world had just been turned on its diapered ass.
I've just found out that my goofy friend from middle school is sexually active. I don't know why that scares me so much, but it does. I feel sick to my stomach.
I need to get over that shit. Clearly we're not still in middle school. But she's one of those shining examples of a person who never changes and is always loud and frightening and obnoxious and overbearing and asexual.
Or maybe not, and I just need to learn to keep in touch with people better. I'm an asshole.
Happy fucking, AMP.
It's strange how heavily guarded our images of friends are when we're younger, and how that connects to some lever in our own internal mechanisms of self-awareness.
And apparently all this has transpired with some British/Greek/Italian kid named "Simon" while she's abroad in London. God save the queen indeed.
In other news, I was so tired I could barely stand last night, so I a took bubble bath with the lights out and candles lit. It was beautiful, especially all the reflections; the candlelight on the fake tile, the candlelight on the water, the candlelight on wet skin.
I'm bringing my camera in the bath next time I have a bubble bath, and I'm bringing my camera to the playhouse today because it's the most amazing, beat-up, dusty old retro-kitsch ex-synagogue-turned-theater in the world. So many photo ops it's disgusting. I could waste my life away shooting light fixtures and ancient type writers and chandeliers and crumbling door frames. And tonight, I will.
I've just found out that my goofy friend from middle school is sexually active. I don't know why that scares me so much, but it does. I feel sick to my stomach.
I need to get over that shit. Clearly we're not still in middle school. But she's one of those shining examples of a person who never changes and is always loud and frightening and obnoxious and overbearing and asexual.
Or maybe not, and I just need to learn to keep in touch with people better. I'm an asshole.
Happy fucking, AMP.
It's strange how heavily guarded our images of friends are when we're younger, and how that connects to some lever in our own internal mechanisms of self-awareness.
And apparently all this has transpired with some British/Greek/Italian kid named "Simon" while she's abroad in London. God save the queen indeed.
In other news, I was so tired I could barely stand last night, so I a took bubble bath with the lights out and candles lit. It was beautiful, especially all the reflections; the candlelight on the fake tile, the candlelight on the water, the candlelight on wet skin.
I'm bringing my camera in the bath next time I have a bubble bath, and I'm bringing my camera to the playhouse today because it's the most amazing, beat-up, dusty old retro-kitsch ex-synagogue-turned-theater in the world. So many photo ops it's disgusting. I could waste my life away shooting light fixtures and ancient type writers and chandeliers and crumbling door frames. And tonight, I will.