Latest Project that Seems Like a Waste of Time
I am in a period of self-imposed hibernation following a trip to Syracuse. Most of you know what that means. Basically I'm doing the social shutdown -- as completely as I am able -- so that I can rebuild and recenter. This happens about twice a year, but the good news is that I always seem to catch myself before Syracuse swallows me fucking whole, so you will be seeing a lot more writing and a far less histrionic bounding about and romantic multitasking.
At least for now.
For practical purposes, just consider this the one time I will have a clean apartment, cook all of my meals, do my laundry, and organize my computer. I also have a friend supplying me with valium -- if I really need it. Good times.
Anyway, recently I discovered that I no longer can open half of the documents I wrote in high school and college and this was distressing the living shit out of me. So I went a pirate-ing and found the very very last update of Appleworks... literally I felt like I was uncovering a mummy with one remaining hair left for cloning... and since then, I've been converting and saving and converting and saving and occasionally reading.
And I found this little piece I wrote about my least loved feature in a letter to some girl I no longer can picture, but I must have liked her then...:
I picture your hair bleeding poetry from the ends; thus they wouldn’t be split, I suppose. My hair is split to the gills (?). Curly, a bit oily with the Coconut hair ointment I slather upon it after showering. Some people like it; I think God is punishing me. “Chey,” he says, “when you were some asshole in a former life, you had perfect hair. That type that people kill for. The type that horses eat because it looks so tempting. It is for that reason, you loathsome past-self, that I am going to grace your ungrateful head with beastly strands of hyper-thin snakisms. Your going to go 1/64 bald every time you bathe. The only way you’ll be able to put your hair up is by knotting it. It will never grow beneath the small of your back because it will break off at the ends before you get there. You will often wake up strangled by it. Your hair, Cheyenne, will be the embodiment of hell and all its little demons.” So this is the origin of my physical identity. A huge head with nappy hair.
Wondering what else I'll find along the way.
At least for now.
For practical purposes, just consider this the one time I will have a clean apartment, cook all of my meals, do my laundry, and organize my computer. I also have a friend supplying me with valium -- if I really need it. Good times.
Anyway, recently I discovered that I no longer can open half of the documents I wrote in high school and college and this was distressing the living shit out of me. So I went a pirate-ing and found the very very last update of Appleworks... literally I felt like I was uncovering a mummy with one remaining hair left for cloning... and since then, I've been converting and saving and converting and saving and occasionally reading.
And I found this little piece I wrote about my least loved feature in a letter to some girl I no longer can picture, but I must have liked her then...:
I picture your hair bleeding poetry from the ends; thus they wouldn’t be split, I suppose. My hair is split to the gills (?). Curly, a bit oily with the Coconut hair ointment I slather upon it after showering. Some people like it; I think God is punishing me. “Chey,” he says, “when you were some asshole in a former life, you had perfect hair. That type that people kill for. The type that horses eat because it looks so tempting. It is for that reason, you loathsome past-self, that I am going to grace your ungrateful head with beastly strands of hyper-thin snakisms. Your going to go 1/64 bald every time you bathe. The only way you’ll be able to put your hair up is by knotting it. It will never grow beneath the small of your back because it will break off at the ends before you get there. You will often wake up strangled by it. Your hair, Cheyenne, will be the embodiment of hell and all its little demons.” So this is the origin of my physical identity. A huge head with nappy hair.
Wondering what else I'll find along the way.