hooray for habitation excavation

[timesofgrace]

so my sister and i cleaned out her room on saturday afternoon when we were moving her into her new house. among some crazy old pictures, my television remote, my motorcycle jacket, and my 35mm camera, i found my book that i had started writing while i was in europe. at first i thought my parents had stolen it but it turns out it had been hiding smack in the middle of her box spring and mattress. i don't know.. maybe i got stoned one night and in my paranoia thought i should hide it and ended up forgetting. sometimes i do that if i get far enough out of this world. i forget what happens and then i have these weird dreams and they replace what i was actually doing in this world. last night, for example, i was not far gone at all but i woke this morning thinking that i had gained 20 lbs, my motorcycle needed a new belt for something, and that it was march. i still think my favorite was the time i thought it was august and that my parents were dead and my sister was getting married the next day because it was her birthday. it was actually november, my parents were alive, and my sister didn't even have a boyfriend. it's strange how a life from dreams will carry over to 'real' life, even the memories that weren't directly experienced. anyway, even though my book was just a weird version of brave new world writen in a house of leaves/e.e. cummings kind of style i'm still excited that i have it. i may or may not finish it - you can imagine how disappointed i was when i finished reading brave new world in switzerland [it is only the second book i have ever read in one day - the first being 'no change please' (or something along those lines) in 4th grade when the author was coming to our school. i had been so happy that i read it because we needed to read two of his books in order to attend the event he was speaking in and i didn't know this until the day before. so i finished and as soon as i got to school i ran to the library to tell the head librarian the good news and i interupted her and a man talking and i felt bad but i told her how excited i was to get to attend now and ran on my way. after lunch we headed into the library and she introduced us to said author who turned out to be the man i interupted earlier. i felt such a huge mix of emotions but maintained myself. i think it was multiple experiences like this early on in life that helped me sustain such a hard shell supressing the expression of whatever it is i'm feeling, since i had no instruction on how to deal with it], only to come to the realization it was exactly what i had spent the past month writing.

i somehow have few pants that fit me. i like straight vermouth on the rocks.