Big booty breaths
I want to be connected to the world of livejournal--my friends. I read Kat and Muffin and danny's journals just now...It's nice to read the ongoings of friend's consciousnesses.
My own consciousness is flighty right now. I rode my bike a hot, relatively difficult ride to a restaurant down Merrimon Ave. called Savoy. An ad on craigslist said they're looking for a part-time evening host. Looking for smiles, a performer, a welcomer, "Do you like putting together a puzzle every night?" Sure. Yeah. Eight bucks an hour plus, it says. Let me work, somewhere.
I go there, and it's not bad. A small place, a comfortable atmosphere, I'm thinking, though the middle of the afternoon has only the kitchen workers around preparing for Dinner. Researching the website shows the restaurant serves local produce and places an emphasis on, well, aesthetic, but that isn't unusual for a fine-dining restaurant. The owner moved to Asheville in search of a community to raise the family. I can relate to that.
Anyway, pulled in to Firestorm to cool off a bit. Just spent my dollar in change at the music store to buy a banjo thumb-pick, though, so I can't buy anything here. A peppermint iced tea would be nice. I've got water, though, and no one else is using computers, so I'm not in the way. I'll pay for something another day.
Next course of action I intend to take is biking over the river to West Asheville and peeking into the West End Bakery and the Sunny Point Cafe to check out the atmospheres and inquire about work. I'm trying to keep my standards up, looking for employment where I could somewhat agree with the business practices. That way, I'll be able to feel like I've got a cool life. Working at a local cafe is something that an aspiring artist/crazy girl can do for a long while in her favorite little wacky town.
Practicing the banjo went well today. I've got a book, so I can steadily progress through traditional finger-picking songs, grow more comfortable, learn some exciting mountain-hollering, heart-ripening tunes and begin setting up on the sidewalk and coaxing the dollar bills a-dancing out of tourists' pockets into the soft, red lining of my open banjo case.
I don't know if I'll move in with the new friends on the westside. I don't care, for now. I have to take it easy with such large transitions. I'm reading a book by Denise Linn on dreams and dream incubating and interpreting. So, I hope to be listening more intunedly to my intuition and metaphysical cosmically wonderful intelligently aware self as parlayed through my dreams.
Also, I called home and talked to Mom for a while today. It was just after coming back from dropping daniel off in his sister's van to go to SC for a week. It was overcast, cool, and pending rain. I was so quiet inside. I knew I was sad. I told mom I might want to visit this weekend since she and dad have are off work. I might not, though, I said, because I don't have much money left for gas. She called back later and told me if I wanted to come there, she would give me thirty dollars for gas. Just, you know, if I felt like I needed to, or just wanted to come visit. That's nice...teary-eyed, I wanted to go take a bath. Couldn't figure out how to get the tub to plug, so I took a warm shower and shaved one leg. I'm all about contrasts and wanting both ends of a decision. It seems appropriate. Today I saw two women who reminded me of myself with longer hair. I wanted long, unruly, beautiful hair. Not too badly but enough to make me scratch my head and squint trying to figure myself and my conflicting desires out. Why did I have to cut all my hair off again? Next year will I remember to keep it going? No big deal. No little deal. Contrasts and conflicts and perfectly fine living.
Eventually, I'm going to raise a kitten.
My own consciousness is flighty right now. I rode my bike a hot, relatively difficult ride to a restaurant down Merrimon Ave. called Savoy. An ad on craigslist said they're looking for a part-time evening host. Looking for smiles, a performer, a welcomer, "Do you like putting together a puzzle every night?" Sure. Yeah. Eight bucks an hour plus, it says. Let me work, somewhere.
I go there, and it's not bad. A small place, a comfortable atmosphere, I'm thinking, though the middle of the afternoon has only the kitchen workers around preparing for Dinner. Researching the website shows the restaurant serves local produce and places an emphasis on, well, aesthetic, but that isn't unusual for a fine-dining restaurant. The owner moved to Asheville in search of a community to raise the family. I can relate to that.
Anyway, pulled in to Firestorm to cool off a bit. Just spent my dollar in change at the music store to buy a banjo thumb-pick, though, so I can't buy anything here. A peppermint iced tea would be nice. I've got water, though, and no one else is using computers, so I'm not in the way. I'll pay for something another day.
Next course of action I intend to take is biking over the river to West Asheville and peeking into the West End Bakery and the Sunny Point Cafe to check out the atmospheres and inquire about work. I'm trying to keep my standards up, looking for employment where I could somewhat agree with the business practices. That way, I'll be able to feel like I've got a cool life. Working at a local cafe is something that an aspiring artist/crazy girl can do for a long while in her favorite little wacky town.
Practicing the banjo went well today. I've got a book, so I can steadily progress through traditional finger-picking songs, grow more comfortable, learn some exciting mountain-hollering, heart-ripening tunes and begin setting up on the sidewalk and coaxing the dollar bills a-dancing out of tourists' pockets into the soft, red lining of my open banjo case.
I don't know if I'll move in with the new friends on the westside. I don't care, for now. I have to take it easy with such large transitions. I'm reading a book by Denise Linn on dreams and dream incubating and interpreting. So, I hope to be listening more intunedly to my intuition and metaphysical cosmically wonderful intelligently aware self as parlayed through my dreams.
Also, I called home and talked to Mom for a while today. It was just after coming back from dropping daniel off in his sister's van to go to SC for a week. It was overcast, cool, and pending rain. I was so quiet inside. I knew I was sad. I told mom I might want to visit this weekend since she and dad have are off work. I might not, though, I said, because I don't have much money left for gas. She called back later and told me if I wanted to come there, she would give me thirty dollars for gas. Just, you know, if I felt like I needed to, or just wanted to come visit. That's nice...teary-eyed, I wanted to go take a bath. Couldn't figure out how to get the tub to plug, so I took a warm shower and shaved one leg. I'm all about contrasts and wanting both ends of a decision. It seems appropriate. Today I saw two women who reminded me of myself with longer hair. I wanted long, unruly, beautiful hair. Not too badly but enough to make me scratch my head and squint trying to figure myself and my conflicting desires out. Why did I have to cut all my hair off again? Next year will I remember to keep it going? No big deal. No little deal. Contrasts and conflicts and perfectly fine living.
Eventually, I'm going to raise a kitten.