.
i haven't written here in so long
and now is not a good time
there has been as always too much to do
a show with a new director who google tells me is a bigshot in the world of artsy bigshots
and applications to the bauhaus and ostfold tinged with a lingering realization that i am becoming a pretentious art snob
and all the while song of the iren plays in the background and i miss and need and desire all these moments that i never exprienced because i was born too eager and too late.
suddenly i miss everyone i haven't had time for, i miss beyhan and sharon and my dad and my aida. And i wish i could have moments with them, like little windows of space and time where all pretenses could be dropped and i could only tell them taht i miss them and love them and there would be no apologies or crossed wires
and all the while arabic music and french music blares from two opposite sides of the appartment and i hear my neighbours, beautiful and dancing. And i imagine darryl at the party. The late hour transforms it into an epic affair and i can no better concentrate on this difficult language exam than if the books were blank.
staying home tonight was perhaps unnecessarryu a si am learning nothing anyway and tomorrow reuslts will no doubt be dismal.
However i have been granted an evening with tim buckley, my cigarettes and my decadent heartbreaking nostalgia , and for that i am grateful.
and now is not a good time
there has been as always too much to do
a show with a new director who google tells me is a bigshot in the world of artsy bigshots
and applications to the bauhaus and ostfold tinged with a lingering realization that i am becoming a pretentious art snob
and all the while song of the iren plays in the background and i miss and need and desire all these moments that i never exprienced because i was born too eager and too late.
suddenly i miss everyone i haven't had time for, i miss beyhan and sharon and my dad and my aida. And i wish i could have moments with them, like little windows of space and time where all pretenses could be dropped and i could only tell them taht i miss them and love them and there would be no apologies or crossed wires
and all the while arabic music and french music blares from two opposite sides of the appartment and i hear my neighbours, beautiful and dancing. And i imagine darryl at the party. The late hour transforms it into an epic affair and i can no better concentrate on this difficult language exam than if the books were blank.
staying home tonight was perhaps unnecessarryu a si am learning nothing anyway and tomorrow reuslts will no doubt be dismal.
However i have been granted an evening with tim buckley, my cigarettes and my decadent heartbreaking nostalgia , and for that i am grateful.