Treat
The skies have rewarded me with the following for all the shit I've had to put up with recently.
Hello,
So I made it home, and I am adjusting quite nicely. Back into old routine, and old habits. The only difference is that I wake up really sprightly at about five or six in the morning, then generally go right back to sleep, then have a very hard time getting up to go to my job. I suppose I could use my mornings wisely, make a nice cup of coffee, sit on the balcony, have a nutritious breakfast, catch up with correspondance and whatnot. But instead of productivity in the morning, I choose groggy-making sleep. And coffee, cigarette, and crappy muffin for breakfast, and personal email at work time instead of having a fufilling and challenging career. It is nice to be home. That is sincere. My friends like me and I like them, and we have been drinking Tesco green ginger wine on the balcony together.
I'm working on a painting show, and a performance that will be taking place in Calgary this fall (involving raw meat, perhaps? Isn't that cliched?) and I just got a button maker in the mail, so I can make little 1 inch hipster buttons of my very own. If you give me your mailing address, I can send you some buttons, and perhaps other things as well. I am quite enjoying the blue plastic biscuit bag contents--I have been sort of pulling things out one by one and savouring them...poetry collections are sort of good for that kind of exploration too--you can just pick a page and go at it. Same with anthologies of essays and magazines, my preferred literary genres. Who needs boring, long, linear novels? Not me.
So yeah, give me you address, and I'll send you things from Canada. To you. In England.
It was good meeting you. Such a lovely (!) proper, date we had. So much fun. Such a pleasant, serendipitous little meeting.
Yeah, I liked it. Thank-you.
Take care,
Blair
Oh well, back to the self obsessed, Daddy fixated f*cked up little princesses.
Abnormal service will not be resumed.
Hello,
So I made it home, and I am adjusting quite nicely. Back into old routine, and old habits. The only difference is that I wake up really sprightly at about five or six in the morning, then generally go right back to sleep, then have a very hard time getting up to go to my job. I suppose I could use my mornings wisely, make a nice cup of coffee, sit on the balcony, have a nutritious breakfast, catch up with correspondance and whatnot. But instead of productivity in the morning, I choose groggy-making sleep. And coffee, cigarette, and crappy muffin for breakfast, and personal email at work time instead of having a fufilling and challenging career. It is nice to be home. That is sincere. My friends like me and I like them, and we have been drinking Tesco green ginger wine on the balcony together.
I'm working on a painting show, and a performance that will be taking place in Calgary this fall (involving raw meat, perhaps? Isn't that cliched?) and I just got a button maker in the mail, so I can make little 1 inch hipster buttons of my very own. If you give me your mailing address, I can send you some buttons, and perhaps other things as well. I am quite enjoying the blue plastic biscuit bag contents--I have been sort of pulling things out one by one and savouring them...poetry collections are sort of good for that kind of exploration too--you can just pick a page and go at it. Same with anthologies of essays and magazines, my preferred literary genres. Who needs boring, long, linear novels? Not me.
So yeah, give me you address, and I'll send you things from Canada. To you. In England.
It was good meeting you. Such a lovely (!) proper, date we had. So much fun. Such a pleasant, serendipitous little meeting.
Yeah, I liked it. Thank-you.
Take care,
Blair
Oh well, back to the self obsessed, Daddy fixated f*cked up little princesses.
Abnormal service will not be resumed.