Escape this Big Box
Having thus departed, travelled to Target and REI respectivly to search, unsucessfully, for items to purchase.
Having decided to wear my Diesel combat boots, marching around big box stores with determination and poise. Snubbed by socially challenged sales associates. The combat boots are most certainly the most fitting way I have of creating around me the Scent that I like. They are good.
A place to sleep is important, but not as important as what you wear to sleep. That is forever. As I march around the long underwear and super-clearance rain parkas I overhear not unheard conversations from the same old places. Have you ever hiked Switchback Canyon? Oh yes, Tim and hiked up there last summer. I feel like this will last me a long time, anyway I really like the feel. Girls, get down from there. So cheap!
Kate Bush continues to be my muse.
Everytime it rains, everytime you speak, I feel it down the back of my shirt; a creep of skin, blood rising. Fight or flight. You look over the edge, too small; midnight black car. Large woman with large fake breasts drives, Julie or Ashley or Honey, green plastic accounting cap. Bright electric chandelier -- massive torch -- illuminating backward.
And Then There Were... Less
Suddenly I feel a strange sense of urgency. Have you ever felt this? It's the kind of urgency that you don't want to necessarily get rid of because it propells you. Almost literally. Anyway I figure that now I could use all the propelling I can get, seeing as how I already have THREE reading assignments and I haven't even stepped out behind the Zion Curtain. Not to mention an interview, which is a joke.
Tonight I poured a shot of whiskey into a coffee beverage from SL Roasting Co. WHILE still at Roasting Co. It was fantastic. I completely recommend, especially for people who go to coffee shops and are beleaguered by the overall stormcloud atmosphere. It's a bit like the weather in SLC right now, flighty irregular bouts of serious rain with perfectly sculpted lightning in heafty portions. Although, the baristas will probably give you funny crusty looks.
I need to learn how to use a sewing machine. I have this great idea for a pair of pants; shorts with oversized sleeves sewed on so that the part over your ankle would be the part over your wrist, if it was actually still a sleeve. Genius. If I ever do it I'll take some photos and show my close friends. And then wear the pants. Online people will never see.
Be on the lookout for a written collaboration between me at Doris Queen of the Desert. We have extreme synergy and will rock your socks off.
Library Days, Alcohol Nights
Today, for my lack of car, I have ridden my bike downtown to grab lunch and spend two hours at the library with my computer. I am still here, about to leave, and I have to say it has been a pleasant experience. This library is a great hang out location (especially the 4th floor) and you are rarely bothered by anyone. I can only hope that something this substantial and large will be available to me in Evanston, and within closer range to my dorm.
I also hope that the Evanston campus is not hilly because my bike has only three speeds; bad, bad, and good. No hard"x"core gear shifting happening here, no sir.
I also recieved an email from my peer advisor while I was sitting here in the 4th floor couch area. She seems like a nice person. Sane, although has no idea that SLC is a shit hole.
Question: Why am I suddenly so into this blog?
Kate Bush
Kate comes to us in a daze. A haze of cellophane panes, unexplained. Unimagined. I have found that the easiest way to embrace her is to ignore her, to encompass her in silence and take her to the next level of concept. Melodramatically I resign my position of guard, my position of power. Melodramatically I prepare the sacrifice, the podium. There is a sick calm. Sick in my presence.
I am preparing for the move. It is more than two weeks away but mentally I am readying myself for the preparations. It's like the preemptive sneak attack, the action before the cause. I have, unintentionally, been recreating
my personality in preparation, defining myself in moments and singular events, obsessions. I look at myself emphatically and wonder what these new people will think, how I can be myself. What I am. It's like I'm putting on a farce, but that farce is my true self. Or so I think it is. Really it's bizarre and I don't want to think about it a lot.
Joanna Newsome has been really good to me lately. I'm not sure why. Kate Bush has also become a character in my writing, however she is utterly abstract, with no form or celebrity or past or personality. Really, it's just a name for No One. Which is pretty interesting. I've been using my subconscious a lot more recently, tapping into sentence structures that my inner-mind deems most appropriate. Not kidding. Of course I really haven't been writing often so I couldn't really say with any honesty that I'm developing a style or something weird like that, but something is happening. Maybe when I start using my Tape Recorder instead of just carrying it around in my broken Diesel some things will start to happen. To continue the honesty Party, the thought of taking a writing class at NU makes me shudder. It doesn't sound fun at all. We'll see.
I found a bike. It may or may not be too small. It's nice and in new condition, and cheap. Well, cheap-ish.
Complete Turnaround
Today I have opened my Odeur 53 for a block party in the near ghetto.
I plan to go to a 9am bike yard sale following. I can only hope I will create around me the smell I like so that when I impress these strangers and record their stories on my large tape recorder w/ mic they will feel somehow better about being accosted by my abstract image.
A parfum bubble.
I Cannot See Clearly
Today was a day of the books; a record of my misadventure into the world of online blogging and complete narcissism in the face of boredom. There has been nothing normal about my life up to this point, and nothing will continue to be normal.
This is for my friends, my enemies, my beloved strangers. You will read this and feel a connection with me while we are all away. It is my footprints, the semi-permanent record of the next chapter. I don't know why anyone would bother, right Kit? You're better at this than I am. I haven't the patience.
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