Sardine Ballerinas
After our trip to Asheville, I started reading Look Homeward, Angel by Thomas Wolfe. I'd had it in the queue at the library to read before we went. I figured I'd read it and maybe we'd visit the historic home, but I just didn't find the time to run by the library and pick it up. I'm reading it now, and it's wonderful. I'm almost finished, and I'm pretty sure I'm adding it to my list of top 10 books. I'll have to check out his other books after this one.
This weekend we're heading to one of my absolute favorite places to visit, Eureka Springs, Arkansas. It's a delicious little bubble of progressives in this red part of the country. There are all sorts of artists that live there, and they do the best parades. We're visiting to see their Christmas Parade. They also have all these little gingerbread historic homes that they'll be doing a Christmas tour of so we'll be doing that, too. We went there on our honeymoon, and we revisit usually every other year. I'm looking forward to eating at some of our favorite restaurants, and I love this time of year. It's wonderfully quiet when it's not tourist season, and so it's nice just wandering around in peace and popping in and out of stores in the cozy mountain town. If you stay downtown, which we usually do, you can walk everywhere. They have trolleys if needed, but everything we need is usually with walking distance. I don't know how anyone can afford to live there if they don't own a business or something, but I wish I could. I'm going to try to avoid buying this carrot creation (see below) that I adored last time. There's a local crochet artist, Gina Rose Gallina, and she makes the most amazing creations that I want. She made a damn crocheted Marie Antoinette wig, and I desperately wanted that last time I visited, too. Why don't I live in a world where I can wear around a carrot hat if I want and not be stared at like some freak?
I got fake extension eyelashes, and they're beautiful. All the lovely ladies compliment and ask questions. I'm thinking of renouncing my vanity, though. They're pricey. Also, I really like just rubbing my eyes, and I also can't just freely scrub my face anymore. That's how I know I'm getting old. I don't give a damn about the cute factor just let me rub my eyes furiously when I wake up, and I can be happy. They also turn every which way if you don't comb them out every morning. That's time I have to give up drinking coffee and reading. So I love the lashes now, but I may not have them redone. I gave up my rose gold hair, and it's a stormy blue now. I'll like it for a week, and by next week, who cares?
I think I'm depressed. Some days, I think life is so overrated. It wears me out. What's the point? I've been on a three year existential binge, and it's getting so old. I used to fear death, but now, I sometimes can be outside wandering with the dog, and think, I could die right now and it wouldn't really bother me. I think I'm inactively suicidal. I'm not going to end my life or anything, but I just don't care some days to be bothered about it, either. Then, I type that out, and I reread it and hate myself even more. So there's what goes on in my brain most days. I am loving Look Homeward, Angel, but I don't think it's helping this state. There are many days I remember Alex asking me for help and how I always was so happy and looked at the world so positively, and it feels like another person. I can't believe I ever gave anyone advice on this. I stumbled upon her Goodreads account the other day. She's eternally reading The Collected Stories by Amy Hempel. It's sad. I wish I would've had better advice. I guess it ultimately didn't work for her. Don't worry about all this, though. I'm fine, for the most part.
I have to stop listening to crime podcasts before bed. I had a dream there had been a murder, and I had to report to a residence hall to clean it up (add a little work life thrown in for good measure, huh? Res Life apparently has me working for them now, too). There were chunks of flesh that felt bizarre and the top of an ear that the police told me to pick up. There was blood all over the place, and I had to leave a concert to go to the clean up. I do remember finding it odd that the cops had all these people at a crime scene cleaning up, but I went around picking up little rubbery chunks of flesh that looked more like ham.
I finally bought my sardine ballerinas postcard that I've stared at for the last two weeks. It amuses me. I think it's funny. I own all sorts of postcards that need framing so maybe someday I'll get them finally put up. I like this little image so much. I'm considering contacting my tattoo artist to see how much it would be to get a small version of it on me somewhere (just the two dancing sardines in tutus/not the entire scene). The photo of it below was taken from the Etsy shop that I bought it from, BringTheNoise. Also, I hate the name of that Etsy shop. What are the little ostriches about below the sardines? Just the audience? I like them, too. It's from The Netherlands.
Our pecan tree in our backyard is...blooming? Dropping nuts? Ready to harvest? Any way, I always love a pecan tree in our yard because when K. and I first lived next door to one another, we each had a pecan tree in our yard. I love picking pecans. There's something reassuring about just wandering, staring down, hunting them. I rarely take the time to eat them though because I crush them all the time when cracking them. The pecan tree in our neighbor's yard gives better flavored pecans this year than our's. We've been picking up her's. She doesn't pick them up, and this is university housing so it's not really against any socially taboo rules.
I made potato soup on Sunday, and it's so good. I look forward to eating the leftovers every day. It's completely unhealthy, and you fry bacon for it and then cook the onions and garlic in the bacon grease. Both of my grandmas made the best potato soup, though.
I just read through my Livejournal friends page for the first time in a bit, and it seems like everyone is blue so there's that. At least, I'm not alone. Plus, there's this trip coming up which will temporarily soothe some shit, maybe.
This weekend we're heading to one of my absolute favorite places to visit, Eureka Springs, Arkansas. It's a delicious little bubble of progressives in this red part of the country. There are all sorts of artists that live there, and they do the best parades. We're visiting to see their Christmas Parade. They also have all these little gingerbread historic homes that they'll be doing a Christmas tour of so we'll be doing that, too. We went there on our honeymoon, and we revisit usually every other year. I'm looking forward to eating at some of our favorite restaurants, and I love this time of year. It's wonderfully quiet when it's not tourist season, and so it's nice just wandering around in peace and popping in and out of stores in the cozy mountain town. If you stay downtown, which we usually do, you can walk everywhere. They have trolleys if needed, but everything we need is usually with walking distance. I don't know how anyone can afford to live there if they don't own a business or something, but I wish I could. I'm going to try to avoid buying this carrot creation (see below) that I adored last time. There's a local crochet artist, Gina Rose Gallina, and she makes the most amazing creations that I want. She made a damn crocheted Marie Antoinette wig, and I desperately wanted that last time I visited, too. Why don't I live in a world where I can wear around a carrot hat if I want and not be stared at like some freak?
I got fake extension eyelashes, and they're beautiful. All the lovely ladies compliment and ask questions. I'm thinking of renouncing my vanity, though. They're pricey. Also, I really like just rubbing my eyes, and I also can't just freely scrub my face anymore. That's how I know I'm getting old. I don't give a damn about the cute factor just let me rub my eyes furiously when I wake up, and I can be happy. They also turn every which way if you don't comb them out every morning. That's time I have to give up drinking coffee and reading. So I love the lashes now, but I may not have them redone. I gave up my rose gold hair, and it's a stormy blue now. I'll like it for a week, and by next week, who cares?
I think I'm depressed. Some days, I think life is so overrated. It wears me out. What's the point? I've been on a three year existential binge, and it's getting so old. I used to fear death, but now, I sometimes can be outside wandering with the dog, and think, I could die right now and it wouldn't really bother me. I think I'm inactively suicidal. I'm not going to end my life or anything, but I just don't care some days to be bothered about it, either. Then, I type that out, and I reread it and hate myself even more. So there's what goes on in my brain most days. I am loving Look Homeward, Angel, but I don't think it's helping this state. There are many days I remember Alex asking me for help and how I always was so happy and looked at the world so positively, and it feels like another person. I can't believe I ever gave anyone advice on this. I stumbled upon her Goodreads account the other day. She's eternally reading The Collected Stories by Amy Hempel. It's sad. I wish I would've had better advice. I guess it ultimately didn't work for her. Don't worry about all this, though. I'm fine, for the most part.
I have to stop listening to crime podcasts before bed. I had a dream there had been a murder, and I had to report to a residence hall to clean it up (add a little work life thrown in for good measure, huh? Res Life apparently has me working for them now, too). There were chunks of flesh that felt bizarre and the top of an ear that the police told me to pick up. There was blood all over the place, and I had to leave a concert to go to the clean up. I do remember finding it odd that the cops had all these people at a crime scene cleaning up, but I went around picking up little rubbery chunks of flesh that looked more like ham.
I finally bought my sardine ballerinas postcard that I've stared at for the last two weeks. It amuses me. I think it's funny. I own all sorts of postcards that need framing so maybe someday I'll get them finally put up. I like this little image so much. I'm considering contacting my tattoo artist to see how much it would be to get a small version of it on me somewhere (just the two dancing sardines in tutus/not the entire scene). The photo of it below was taken from the Etsy shop that I bought it from, BringTheNoise. Also, I hate the name of that Etsy shop. What are the little ostriches about below the sardines? Just the audience? I like them, too. It's from The Netherlands.
Our pecan tree in our backyard is...blooming? Dropping nuts? Ready to harvest? Any way, I always love a pecan tree in our yard because when K. and I first lived next door to one another, we each had a pecan tree in our yard. I love picking pecans. There's something reassuring about just wandering, staring down, hunting them. I rarely take the time to eat them though because I crush them all the time when cracking them. The pecan tree in our neighbor's yard gives better flavored pecans this year than our's. We've been picking up her's. She doesn't pick them up, and this is university housing so it's not really against any socially taboo rules.
I made potato soup on Sunday, and it's so good. I look forward to eating the leftovers every day. It's completely unhealthy, and you fry bacon for it and then cook the onions and garlic in the bacon grease. Both of my grandmas made the best potato soup, though.
I just read through my Livejournal friends page for the first time in a bit, and it seems like everyone is blue so there's that. At least, I'm not alone. Plus, there's this trip coming up which will temporarily soothe some shit, maybe.