Everything all the time
I am back at the coffee shop. I like this place, but it makes me worry about myself. The last time it was the sloppy kissers on the couch to my left. Today it is this girl behind me who pronounces her s sounds so sharply it's literally all I can fucking hear. Also, she looks like a bitch. Thus, it seems only right that she be muzzled. Right? Absolutely not. What kind of crazy am I sporting these days that I desire denying strangers speaking privileges with the intensity and insanity of a sociopath. This is why I decided to pay for the internet- not because I can't live without it- but because I can't live with some people for any extended amount of time. Then I marvel at my ability to survive in the absence of others, when, well, I'm a big girl.
I've been reading Dr. Porter's book, and find it stunning. I was concerned that I wouldn't like it as much as a loyal pupil should, but luckily it far exceeded expectations and hopes. I feel lame and lucky that I got to take his class, even if it was just one semester. Now that Max is out of town and I'm drowning in short stories, the writing is happening more frequently. I'm also kind of redecorating the apartment. It's gonna take a lot more effort than it's worth detailing here, but having an ugly home feels icky and immature at the moment, and I'd like to feel adult in some area of my life. I've gotten half of the intense cleaning out of the way, but there's some painting that needs to get done and even a little mild carpentry. I bet it will clear my head a lot. Maybe I'll behave better in public.
I'm trying to get started on a lot of projects at the moment, however I am a smidgen limited by funds. Thus, all the cleaning and obsessing happens first. I don't really enjoy the paycheck to paycheck living... but I've had the distinct misfortune of watching my brother suffer through his first month at what appears to be the worst, well-paying job ever. He never has any free time and he sleeps away from home in a trailer most nights a week. While his position is enviable for many reasons and the salary is enormous, as I'm sure I've mentioned before, he isn't the happiest camper. All I can think is how I would just wither away if put in a similar situation. Between that and hearing horror stories from nine to five warriors I keep in contact with in SA, maybe I should more confidently adore my freedoms and colorful coworkers.
I had a rather epic evening alone the other night. I went to Spiderhouse and got some writing done. I also met two crazy old guys who were also attempting to get their own writing done. The cliche made me resolve to work harder this year, but they were really fun to talk to even if it was the picture of likely failure and unimaginable competition staring me in the face. So, I got a little drunk. While working on that endeavor, I overheard a couple girls fighting about two feet away from me. I say overheard, but in my defense, they were yelling in a very small room. It came out over the course of an hour that they used to date, but that the blond, mean one was angry with the passive aggressive brunette for talking to the blond's new girlfriend about their former relationship. The brunette, turns out, is now dating a dude and could not give a fuck about her mean old ex-girlfriend. Who needs cable TV?
To top the evening off, I had an Austin celebrity citing. I was going to get my grilled cheese sandwich when I did a legitimate double take and recognized a one Mr. Britt Daniel ordering an adult beverage at the counter. I thought it particularly funny since I had recently been jealous of Andy for running into him at the Those Peabodys show and as a result, listened to every Spoon song ever the evening before my encounter. I smoked a cigarette next to him on the patio and felt like a goofy teenager, but it was nice. Nice that I was alone and nice that sometimes being absolutely bat shit crazy can be a pleasant experience, if still mostly unjustified.
I've been reading Dr. Porter's book, and find it stunning. I was concerned that I wouldn't like it as much as a loyal pupil should, but luckily it far exceeded expectations and hopes. I feel lame and lucky that I got to take his class, even if it was just one semester. Now that Max is out of town and I'm drowning in short stories, the writing is happening more frequently. I'm also kind of redecorating the apartment. It's gonna take a lot more effort than it's worth detailing here, but having an ugly home feels icky and immature at the moment, and I'd like to feel adult in some area of my life. I've gotten half of the intense cleaning out of the way, but there's some painting that needs to get done and even a little mild carpentry. I bet it will clear my head a lot. Maybe I'll behave better in public.
I'm trying to get started on a lot of projects at the moment, however I am a smidgen limited by funds. Thus, all the cleaning and obsessing happens first. I don't really enjoy the paycheck to paycheck living... but I've had the distinct misfortune of watching my brother suffer through his first month at what appears to be the worst, well-paying job ever. He never has any free time and he sleeps away from home in a trailer most nights a week. While his position is enviable for many reasons and the salary is enormous, as I'm sure I've mentioned before, he isn't the happiest camper. All I can think is how I would just wither away if put in a similar situation. Between that and hearing horror stories from nine to five warriors I keep in contact with in SA, maybe I should more confidently adore my freedoms and colorful coworkers.
I had a rather epic evening alone the other night. I went to Spiderhouse and got some writing done. I also met two crazy old guys who were also attempting to get their own writing done. The cliche made me resolve to work harder this year, but they were really fun to talk to even if it was the picture of likely failure and unimaginable competition staring me in the face. So, I got a little drunk. While working on that endeavor, I overheard a couple girls fighting about two feet away from me. I say overheard, but in my defense, they were yelling in a very small room. It came out over the course of an hour that they used to date, but that the blond, mean one was angry with the passive aggressive brunette for talking to the blond's new girlfriend about their former relationship. The brunette, turns out, is now dating a dude and could not give a fuck about her mean old ex-girlfriend. Who needs cable TV?
To top the evening off, I had an Austin celebrity citing. I was going to get my grilled cheese sandwich when I did a legitimate double take and recognized a one Mr. Britt Daniel ordering an adult beverage at the counter. I thought it particularly funny since I had recently been jealous of Andy for running into him at the Those Peabodys show and as a result, listened to every Spoon song ever the evening before my encounter. I smoked a cigarette next to him on the patio and felt like a goofy teenager, but it was nice. Nice that I was alone and nice that sometimes being absolutely bat shit crazy can be a pleasant experience, if still mostly unjustified.